


World Enough and Time

by edibleflowers



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Children of Earth Compliant, F/M, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-10
Updated: 2012-09-10
Packaged: 2017-11-14 00:07:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 54,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/509235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edibleflowers/pseuds/edibleflowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack finds a life he wasn't expecting to want. Ianto finds a love he never thought he'd have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	World Enough and Time

**Author's Note:**

> This story would not exist without lemniskate, and I owe it all to her. It also owes much of the inspiration to [copperbadge](http://archiveofourown.org/users/copperbadge/pseuds/copperbadge)'s "[In Another Life](http://archiveofourown.org/works/563784)", which was the first Doctor Who/Torchwood fic I read and which got me into the fandom. Any similarities are entirely due to my reading it too many times. Set after Children of Earth and the Doctor Who episode "The End of Time, Part Two". This fic is complete.
> 
> Although I rated this story R overall when I initially posted it, there are a couple of explicit sex scenes. The story isn't rampant with them, though, so I'm choosing to leave the rating as is for now.
> 
> Originally posted over the week of December 13-18, 2010, on my Livejournal.

No matter what he did to it, the vortex manipulator wasn't working right.

Jack knew why, of course, but that didn't make him any happier. He'd fixed it after the last time the Doctor had soniced it into unusability; teleporting and time travel were within his grasp again, except that now, he didn't have anywhere to go. Nowhere he wanted to go, anyway. The very thought of staying with Torchwood made his throat close up; Earth itself held no comfort for him, not now that he'd killed his grandson and, by extension, any love his daughter might have held for him. And with Ianto dead, too late for him to acknowledge the feelings they'd shared; with Gwen pregnant and happily settled with the man for whom she was meant; with Alice unable to look at him -- there was nothing to keep him there.

He'd thought to go back in time once more, to get one last glimpse of Ianto as he was, but his attempt to jump back went wrong somehow and he ended up in Spain instead of London of 2005. At the time, he ascribed it to his haste and grief. Then he was saying goodbye to Gwen and being transported to a freighter at the edge of the solar system.

For a time, he drifted. He drank, he fought; he tried sleeping around in an attempt to avoid the pain. In lucid moments, he toyed with the manipulator, trying to figure out what had gone wrong in his attempted jump to the past. It wasn't until he saw the Doctor in a bar on Trenxoa that it hit him. (Then he saw Alonso Frame, and, well. The distraction was a bit too tempting.) Afterward, though, leaving the boy still asleep, he programmed the wriststrap and jumped back to Earth.

Getting to his usual time was easy; the timeline continued, unaffected by his absence -- though he noticed, with a sort of grim satisfaction, that the governments of the world had been badly shaken by their attempted deal with the devil, and many of the officials he'd seen in that room had since been voted out. Ignoring anything else, he set about working on getting back to the previous September.

The first attempt put him in the middle of the Sahara. He had no trouble getting back to his starting point, fortunately; the vortex manipulator worked fine to return him to what he was considering, for the momentary purpose, as 'now'. The second try bounced him back six months prior, and it only took him a moment to recognise that day as one in which they'd had to go to Aberystwyth to deal with what turned out to be a false alarm. After his fourth attempt went awry, he started to wonder if the whole week was one of those rare fixed-point events, the sort which could never be altered or interfered with.

Wondering suddenly if he could bypass the timelocked event by going back to 1965, he programmed the manipulator with new parameters. Surely there had to be some way to change the past. By now, he was feeling perversely determined -- and maybe there was some way to clean up his mistakes after all.

This jump put him to the right day, but in a field of flowers in Austria. He'd never be able to get to Scotland in time to prevent himself from giving the children to the 456. Swearing, Jack reprogrammed the manipulator yet again. He had to get through. One way or another, he was determined to fix his past. Cranking up the power, he reinforced the commands. If he overrode the safety inhibitors, maybe he could break through the time-lock surrounding the events. He stabbed the button to execute--

The sharp and sudden lack of air wasn't what he was expecting. He'd never jumped like this before. He couldn't draw breath, couldn't move; the blackness swam in around him, threatening to claim him. Was he at last, truly, dying? Would this be the end of his long life?

When reality reappeared around him, he stumbled to his knees and gasped in great lungfuls of air. The ground, reassuringly solid beneath him, held his weight while he got to his feet, re-oriented himself. Had it worked?

He could tell he was in Scotland, a plain quiet road in the middle of nowhere that looked all too familiar. So far, so good. The vortex manipulator gave him confusing readings, though. Not 1965 -- once again he'd skidded past the point of entry into the timestream, bounced off and past. No, he was in 2014, which made even less sense. Every other time, he'd come back to 2010, which had been set to his default point of origin. And the manipulator was picking up all other sorts of strange readings--

Suddenly he realised why everything seemed so quiet. There were no airplanes overhead. But a moment later, that, too, was explained when a shadow crept over him and he looked up to see a perfectly ordinary zeppelin making its way in a southerly direction. From the shape of its cabin, he guessed it to be a passenger vessel. The vortex manipulator obligingly gave him specs and diagrams, schedules, manifests, passenger lists.

He'd come to another world. A parallel universe. In all his travels, both with the Time Agency and with the Doctor, he'd never managed to cross dimensions, though he recalled Mickey Smith briefly mentioning a stay in the parallel world where Rose and the human version of the Doctor now lived. Jack supposed it would be too much of a coincidence to hope that he'd come to that world. Still, not much difference; he'd just jump back to his Earth and...

The manipulator's teleport function was burnt out. Jack tried one jump, then another, to no effect. Swearing viciously at the useless piece of technology, he ducked off the road, barely stumbling out of the path of the noisy electric car that honked its horn at him.

He was stuck here.

Sighing heavily, he started down the road. He had a long walk until the next town; with any luck, he could pick up a lift. Beyond that, he had no idea what to do next.

* * *

It made sense, for reasons he didn't want to examine too closely, to head for London. His money wasn't good on this world -- here, the UK was led by a president instead of a prime minister, with the royal family kept only out of fond nostalgia. But it was easy to pick a couple of pockets, and soon enough he was in one of those zeppelins travelling south to London. It was an odd and frustratingly slow method of travel; Jack found himself bouncing in his seat, his only method of passing the time an attempt to research this world's history to find out why the combustion engine had never gained a foothold. Even that was useless when it couldn't get him anywhere -- whether it be back home or to London more quickly.

He'd thought he might try and hop a ride offworld, but it had soon become apparent that this version of Earth had had little alien contact. If there was a version of the Doctor here, he didn't visit; or if he did, he kept himself well hidden from view. It wasn't until Jack started working to ascertain current levels of technology -- to see if there was a place that might help him fix his vortex manipulator and get home -- that he realised exactly what world he'd come to.

Sitting back, he sucked in a hard breath of air and wiped his eyes. This _was_ the world where Rose now lived. It was also the world from which the Cybermen had come to invade Earth.

Jack stared out of the window for a long time before his breathing finally steadied. The Cybermen. For so long, he'd thought they'd killed Rose -- along with most of Torchwood London. They'd nearly gained a foothold again in his world when Ianto unwittingly secreted one, in the form of his dead girlfriend, in the Hub. Even now, years after, Jack could barely think about them without a red film rising before his eyes.

But they were all gone now. Mickey Smith had lived here for some time, working with a resistance group -- and this world's version of Torchwood -- to stamp out Cyberman presence all over the world. Then, his mission complete and his parallel self's grandmother dead, he'd returned to his own Earth. Jack had to allow a certain amount of grudging respect for Mickey, who'd made very little of an impression on him at first (outside of his clear jealousy of the Doctor), but had certainly come into his own as a warrior on this world.

Jack had had the impression that this world's Torchwood was focused more on research and technology than on the capture and study of alien tech -- which made sense, given the lack of alien presence here -- but even so, he planned to avoid them. No good could come of it.

* * *

It wasn't hard to establish himself in London. He found a bedsit and a job selling cars -- the electric vehicles did a good job of keeping the city's traffic less clogged, and as a side benefit, the skies were markedly clearer. It was amazingly ordinary; Jack was bored, but he found it a pleasant boredom. He went to work each day; he made a few sales, enough to keep his superiors happy but not enough to make his fellow salesman jealous. He put away his greatcoat and invested in a more modern wardrobe. Time to be someone else.

He hadn't intended to seek out anyone he knew on this world -- not Rose, and certainly not the parallel versions of any of his employees in Torchwood. But then Owen Harper came into the dealership, his wife carrying a two-year-old boy, and Jack felt the pang of loss so sharp and clear that he nearly vomited. He let one of his co-workers take the sale, watching them from behind his office door. Owen seemed happier than he'd ever been when Jack knew him; the wife was lovely, a willowy blonde with fond eyes for her husband, and the sturdy child playful and happy. It was like being touched by grace.

He took the next week off and went to Cardiff. Gwen was there, still working as a PC, still partnered with Andy Davidson. He didn't introduce himself, just kept back to watch her helping out some lost tourists, her manner as friendly and warm as it had ever been. After that, Tosh was easy to seek out; she worked for the Ministry of Defense here, too, but had never been blackmailed into making illegal weapons and she seemed happy, engaged in her job. Suzie Costello had gone from working as an investigative journalist to a career as a full-time writer; her mystery novels topped the charts. And he found Estelle Cole, too: living in Penarth, her cat keeping her company, she made forays into the nearby countryside to photograph the scenery. Lump in his throat, Jack drove back to London.

He couldn't let himself seek out Ianto. There was no comfort there.

So, of course, Ianto found him.

* * *

Ianto nearly missed the report altogether. He couldn't say it was for lack of attention; if anything, he had too much to attend to. It had been a busy week, a whole string of new products going to market and a round of reviews cursing technology once again (which, while Ianto couldn't blame them, also made him despair just a little for humanity's sake). He finally took a stack of reports home to read, sprawling on the couch with BBC One on in the background for white noise; it was there, sipping a beer and absently scanning one of the standard reports run on energy emissions, that it caught his eye.

A burst of Artron radiation had appeared out of nowhere in the wilds of Scotland, up near Edinburgh somewhere. The initial incident had registered at a level high enough to compare to that generated by travel between worlds; continued residual readings of Artron radiation were also noted in the subsequent days.

It had been two years since the last time the dimensions were breached. Ianto remembered it well: Rose, Mickey, and Jackie had commandeered the dimension-jumping devices -- themselves merely a boost used to transport a human being between worlds, with a half-hour's charge time between uses -- to help the Doctor prevent the total breakdown between dimensions that had already been occurring for the past six months. Stars going out, an island chain in the Pacific disappearing, Australia suddenly overrun by a strange rodent-like creature apparently related to the wombat that nonetheless had never evolved on their world -- it was all frightening, and Rose had been mad to go and help the Doctor any way she could. And she did, too; Ianto smiled to remember that, how she'd first managed to contact the Doctor's companion, Donna Noble, and then had gone back to her own world to stop the Daleks from their ultimate goal of destroying creation itself.

Then the Doctor had brought her back here -- to Darlig Ulv Stranden, again, like he had a penchant for the place really -- and left her. Her and Jackie and a human version of himself (Ianto had never quite been clear on the explanation and hadn't been keen to ask); Mickey'd stayed on his own world, and Rose took the exile hard. It was better, Ianto supposed, that she had her mother and a man who loved her like she was his own daughter; at least she wasn't alone. She had the Doctor, too, though he was strange and skittish for a long time, and it had taken them both a few months to adjust to this new relationship. The Doctor finally chose a name (Thomas Wright), though Rose still called him "Doctor" -- but fondly now, and they all knew the wedding wouldn't be far off.

Ianto almost didn't want to bother her with it. They'd all relaxed once it became clear that the dimensional walls were knitting and holding once more, that the temporary breakdowns had repaired themselves. The islands had come back; the wombat-like creatures absented themselves to their place of origin; one by one, the stars had returned.

In the end, though, Ianto knew he had to say something. If this was the start of another incursion...

He laid the report on Pete Tyler's desk the following morning. His job as Pete's right-hand man meant that he handled a lot of the information coming into Pete's office, a situation that often meant long hours and few days off. Ianto didn't mind, though; he liked to work. Occasionally -- though less frequently, these days -- he also got to go into the field to investigate strange occurrences.

To his dismay, Pete agreed with him. The radiation merited investigation. "We'll get Rose on this as well," he said, before Ianto could suggest the same thing, and the two men smiled across the desk at each other. "She'd be champing at the bit if I didn't send her with you, anyway."

"It's like a road trip," Ianto observed, a few days into their journey, "only without the fun." That made Rose laugh and pelt him with a soggy chip. They took a company car and drove north, first, to the point of origin -- a nondescript road in the lonely Scottish countryside -- and then began to track it. Stronger in London, it wavered, and then led them, oddly, to Cardiff. Ianto tensed there, but they only drove through to the city centre long enough to get a fix on the trail -- a momentary strengthening, as if an artist, drawing a line with a fountain pen, had held it there to let the ink bleed into the paper a moment longer. Then they were following the graceful line to an MoD office in the vale just north of the city -- and then over to Penarth, oddly, though it was a nice diversion as Rose insisted on taking a quick run down the pier. By the time they crossed their own path to return to London, Ianto was heartily tired of driving.

"This area's definitely where it's strongest," Rose said at last, as Ianto pulled to a halt at the kerb next to a perfectly ordinary car dealership.

"Makes no sense," he said, but they got out and talked to the owner, an agreeable older man who was happy to let them inspect the stock -- and to try and talk the "lovely young couple" into a new vehicle of their own. Ianto bristled at the notion that they were together, but he supposed the assumption was unavoidable. Rose laughed when they got back into the Torchwood car.

"I have to tell Thomas about this," she said. "He'll die laughing!"

"If he doesn't kill me," Ianto sighed. "All right, so it isn't something on the site. Do we have anything else in this area, maybe? See if you can tighten the scan."

It took some fiddling with the PDA, but at last Rose nodded. "Two streets over, there's -- a block of flats, it looks like. Or maybe it's just a boarding house. And a bar nearby."

Ianto shifted gears. "Then let's go see it."

The boarding house was indeed a prime focus of the radiation, along with another energy type that Ianto didn't recognise; Rose apparently did, though she was shaking her head in clear confusion as she read out the report on the PDA. "This makes no sense at all," she said. "I've only seen that..." Trailing off, she shook back her hair and glanced at Ianto. "Let's check the bar," she said, her voice odd. "I've got a feeling."

Shrugging, Ianto followed her down the street to the corner pub. It was a jangling, loud place, young and full of brash energy that made Ianto feel ten years older than his thirty; music blared out of speakers everywhere, flat television screens mounted overhead with a variety of images showing, and neon lining the ceiling in geometric patterns. Ianto guessed the drinks here started at a minimum of ten quid and had fancy names to make up for the watered-down alcohol.

Rose, however, ignored all of it to stare at a man at the bar. He was dressed casually enough, nice dark trousers and braces (old-fashioned, Ianto thought, surprised; not the type usually found in this kind of bar), and while his back was to them, Ianto could see that he was flirting with the blond man next to him. Then Rose shouted a name, and the man turned abruptly, dark hair flinging back from his forehead.

"Jack!" was the name she had cried.

Even as Ianto tried to remember where he'd heard that name before (outside of the royal family, of course), Rose was already running across the floor to the man. He stood, tall and broad-shouldered and solid, a grin, white and wide, splitting his face as he held his arms out to her. And Rose leapt into them, her laugh ragged as a sob, as he swung her around.

 _Jack_ , Ianto repeated to himself. _Jack Harkness_ , of all the Doctor stories. _That_ Jack Harkness.

Oh, fuck.

* * *

Harkness didn't seem unhappy to be found -- not if the way he grabbed Rose up to kiss her was any indication. Still, Ianto felt a distinct sense of unease around him. Perhaps it was the way he reacted to Rose's introduction of Ianto.

"Jack, this is Ianto Jones, he works with my dad at Torchwood," Rose had said, pulling Harkness over to where Ianto stood by the door. Harkness gave him a glance, his eyes full of some strange sort of recognition; then he proceeded to completely ignore the hand Ianto held out, turning back to Rose as if Ianto wasn't even there.

Whatever the case, Ianto soon found himself being towed along in Rose's wake. She decided that Jack couldn't stay in his little bedsit, and Jack, wisely, let her take charge. In short order, with a bag of his only possessions, Jack was in the back seat of the car and Ianto was driving them out to Pete's mansion on the outskirts of London.

Jack Harkness, he thought, a little glumly. He should have guessed it. Between Rose and the Doctor, he'd heard most of the stories of their adventures travelling through space and time -- how they'd saved Cardiff from an alien who wanted to fracture the Earth and sell it to the highest bidder; getting lost in 13th century Japan; fighting Daleks and seeing the wonders of the galaxy. Ianto suspected that Rose had, at least at the time, been more than a little in love with Jack, though her true heart always belonged to the Doctor.

He stopped the car at the foot of the steps up to the house. Rose had called ahead, so Jackie and Pete were already there waiting, eyes wide as Jack got out of the car. Ianto stayed by, watching, a strange sense of resentment smouldering as Jackie took Jack into her arms for a warm embrace. Pete shook his hand; Ianto couldn't hear all of the conversation, but the invitation was clear: Jack had a place to stay for as long as he needed it, and any thought of compensation was to be put out of his mind. It wasn't right, Ianto couldn't help thinking. Then Thomas appeared at the top of the stairs -- in a ragged pair of pajama bottoms and an old t-shirt, dressing gown flapping around his ankles. The look of delight on his face when he saw Jack finished it all.

Quietly, he asked Pete if he needed anything else. He was grateful for the quick dismissal; in the hubbub that swirled around Harkness, it was easy to slip back into the car and head off down the drive. Glancing in the rearview mirror, he saw Thomas embracing Harkness. Of course, he thought: Harkness was probably in love with the Doctor, too.

* * *

Pete had told him to take the next day off, but of course that evening they had to have a dinner party to properly welcome Jack to the family. Jackie specifically told Ianto that he was required to attend; so, shoring up his courage, Ianto cleaned himself up to head over.

He was relieved, upon arrival, to see that he was far from the only guest aside from Harkness. Thomas and Rose were there, of course -- but then they still lived there, at least until the wedding, in a carriage house Pete had had refurbished for them. There were several others from Torchwood, though, and some of Jackie's social acquaintances (though she claimed to loathe the upper-society circle and all the procedures that went with it, Ianto knew she enjoyed being part of a group who never would have acknowledged her existence in her home dimension). Ianto kept himself to the Torchwood circle, doing his best not to pay attention to Jack -- who was, of course, the center of attention.

He didn't think the man was doing it on purpose. He just seemed to draw people. There were outrageous stories about aliens (no one believed them, but they made for great amusement) and it seemed to Ianto's cynical eyes that Jack flirted with every person there. Except for Ianto, who somehow seemed to have turned invisible. He didn't mind, as such; it seemed odd, though, and made him wonder if he'd forgotten to shower or something.

As the evening went on, though, most of the Torchwood folk slipped away -- it would be an early day tomorrow -- and Ianto found himself being nudged to sit near Jack by a smiling Rose. It didn't seem to matter to Harkness, but Ianto supposed he'd have to make a point of saying something to Rose, though he'd hoped not to. Then Peter came by and stole Rose off to see something he'd been working on, and Ianto realised it was just him, Harkness, and Jackie. "Anyone want a top up?" he asked, grateful when both of the others nodded, and made his escape to the bar on the patio.

Jackie's was a vodka tonic with a twist of lime; Ianto could make those in his sleep. He took another bottle of beer for himself, as well as one for Jack; though he'd noticed Jack hadn't drunk very much, it was only polite. Popping caps from the bottles, he carefully carried it all back. Jack had just surrendered Tony to his mother again, accepting the bottle with a polite nod, and Ianto breathed out a little as he gave Jackie her drink and then sat.

"Oh, dear, what a fuss we're making," Jackie crooned as a squirming Tony tried to reach out for Jack, chubby hands grasping unhappily at the air. "Someone's getting overtired."

"I can take him up," Jack unexpectedly offered. The beer hung in one hand, untasted.

"No, no, I've got him," Jackie said. She stood, hoisting the squirming child on her hip and setting her drink down on a nearby table. "I'll be back soon. Talk amongst yourselves." She gave Ianto a not-so-subtle wink as she left; Ianto took a long drink of beer, wondering if he'd have to have the talk with Jackie, too.

Apparently, with no one else around for Jack to focus on, Ianto wasn't invisible after all. Harkness turned toward him, taking a breath and then making himself smile. It wasn't very natural, but Ianto wasn't inclined to quibble at this point. "So," Harkness said, tipping his bottle up to drink, "you work at Torchwood?"

Nodding, Ianto took a sip of his own beer. "I'm under Pete," he said. "Assistant, or I suppose you could say glorified office boy. I do most of the running around, making sure everything gets where it needs to be."

Jack's smile was just a little sardonic. "Somehow I'm sure it's not that simple."

"Well, no," Ianto allowed. "And I do field work, too. As you've seen. But it's good work, and I enjoy it."

"Mm." With a noncommital noise, Jack took another sip of beer. "Pete trusts you with Rose, that's a big deal."

"I've worked there for a long time," Ianto said; he found it a little disconcerting now to have Jack's full attention on him, and for a moment wished he was invisible again. "And it wasn't easy earning Pete's trust, either. But I'd already worked with Rose a lot before I got to where I am now. When she came through -- through the Void," he said, hesitating a moment, but Jack seemed familiar with the terminology, and he continued, "she needed something to do. She was so alone. Pete gave her some work at Torchwood, and it just went from there."

"You care for her," Jack said, oddly quiet. Ianto tipped his head, confused, nodding slowly.

"Of course," he said, as if it were self-evident. "She's a lovely girl."

Jack's smile at that was soft and yet so warm that it made something twist in Ianto's chest. "She is at that," he replied. "She's amazing. I hadn't seen her in a long time..." He trailed off a moment, and Ianto's eyebrow went up.

"Until she came to help you with the Daleks?" he asked.

Jack seemed to go dark then. Nodding, he took a long pull off his bottle, and Ianto felt the sudden need to change the subject. "We developed that technology," he said. "To travel through the Void." A little lamely, he went on when Jack didn't respond. "I helped bring her back here when, when the other Doctor left her here with Jackie and Thomas."

"Yeah?" Jack glanced up at him with a hint of that warm smile. "I had wondered what happened. I - the Doctor didn't say. The one from my dimension, I mean. He's still out there, though, in my world. Travelling. I saw him a few months ago."

"That's good," Ianto said quietly, not sure how to respond. "Not that I'd expect anything less of a Time Lord. I've heard Rose's stories."

As if summoned by the sound of her name, Rose appeared from the patio, her smile wide and sunny when she caught sight of the two of them. Ianto raised his bottle, and she came up to them, claiming Jackie's chair to sit down.

"All right," she grinned. "What are you two plotting?"

It didn't last long after that, not that Ianto had expected it to. Jack turned his attention to Rose; when Thomas came after her and sat down in her lap, Ianto knew his invisibility had returned. He quietly excused himself and said his farewells to Pete before heading for his car.

He didn't know why it bothered him that Jack was so cool to him. Maybe it was the way Jack was warm to everyone else -- so friendly, so open -- and yet treated Ianto as if he barely existed. In any case, it shouldn't matter to him; there wasn't any reason for him to mean anything to Harkness. Besides which, he didn't care.

* * *

"Just come see what it's like," Rose had said, wheedling, pleading, and so Jack found himself, at an ungodly early hour of the morning, being driven up to the front door of this world's Torchwood. Here, they operated openly, though he could see from the security gates and barriers that they had to protect themselves; not surprising that this world was so negative to technology, really.

He didn't want to work for Torchwood again. He didn't want to be involved anymore. But he was stuck here, and Rose had pointed out -- as had another argumentative woman, many years ago -- that he'd need a form of income to get around. "I had one," he tried to argue, "that you made me quit. The dealership, remember?" It didn't matter, not when Rose had her mind made up. Sighing, Jack got out of the car, thanked the driver, and headed into the front doors of Torchwood London.

Having half-expected it, he wasn't terribly surprised to see Ianto standing at the reception desk, waiting for him. It was as if this universe was determined to keep throwing the two of them together. What took Jack aback, though, was the friendly way Ianto was chatting with the receptionist -- openly smiling, casual and warm, in a way Jack rarely remembered his own Ianto acting. For her part, the receptionist seemed just as interested: she leaned forward (revealing the strap of a holster hidden under her blazer, he noted approvingly), her fingers toying with a pen, eyes only for Ianto.

Jack didn't know why that annoyed him, but he strode up to the desk and cleared his throat. The lobby itself was a lush affair, marble flooring and wide clean space, flowerpots in the corners; strange to think of Torchwood having a lobby. The receptionist straightened immediately, looking up at Jack as Ianto gave him a nod of greeting.

"Right," he said. "This is Ellen. Ellen, Jack Harkness."

Jack couldn't help the wink; he was pleased to see Ellen smile warmly in response. _Still got it_.

"Shall we?" said Ianto, and Jack followed helplessly.

Canary Wharf was the same here as in his own London; Jack recalled how the tower had been built specifically to reach the breach there, and it seemed that certain things had to follow suit here. Perhaps there was a version of the Canary Wharf tower in every London in every parallel universe. The comparisons to the Torchwood London of his own Earth ended there, however. Where Yvonne Hartman's Torchwood had been a breezy, modern company with a mission statement and artful frosted glass at every turn, this was a grittier and more honest business: the Torchwood logo wasn't hidden, and, as Ianto explained, they traded as a public company.

"Even so," he said, ushering Jack into the gigantic warehouse, "we have to be careful. You know what happened with the Cybermen--" His pause was barely long enough to be noticed, but at some point Jack had developed a keen sense of Ianto's -- _his_ Ianto's -- moods; it apparently applied to his doppelganger as well. "As you can imagine," Ianto went on smoothly, "it affected most of the world's feelings toward any sort of technology. Even here -- Torchwood wasn't nearly as big then, but we lost most of the work force, even though we had nothing to do with John Lumic or his creations."

Jack felt a little chill as he thought of it. The Doctor had told him, when they'd had time to talk, about the trip to this world with Rose and Mickey, how an ailing man had tried to cure his dying body with cybertech -- and how it had resulted in the cybertech's attempt to dominate and slaughter the human race. Only through the Doctor's clever intervention had the Cybermen been stopped. Even then, factories of them remained all over the world, and though Mickey had stayed behind to help remove the Cyber menace, enough survived to try and break through into what Jack still thought of as his own world. And though Jack knew that the Doctor had somehow managed to stop both the Cybermen and the Daleks from destroying the human race in their crossfire, he'd lost Rose -- who was safe, but stuck in this dimension.

From Ianto's minor hitch, he guessed that he, too, had lost someone to the Cybermen: Lisa Hallett, perhaps. If Ianto still mourned, though, he didn't show it. "A lot of what we do now," he continued, as they walked into the main area, "is to try and change that perception into a positive one again. Obviously, there are some forms of technology that people will always accept -- cars and trains, zeppelins, phones, that sort of thing. But mobiles..."

"Lumic used those to control people, yeah?" Jack asked. Ianto gave him a surprised, canny look, then nodded.

"He did. Nothing's made with insertable earpieces these days, not even headsets. Not that--" He broke off for a moment, gave Jack another assessing look, then smiled a little. "Not that it should matter, you know? The signal came through the phone lines, the Cybus Network."

"A signal's a signal," Jack agreed, pleased to see that Ianto shared his own sentiment: the vessel might change in shape or size -- the message was what mattered, and Lumic's network probably worked just as well on old-fashioned landlines as on the latest mobile. "I assume his tech has been thoroughly disabled."

"If we could have nuked it from orbit..." Ianto said, with a roll of his eyes, and Jack found himself laughing. So they had _Aliens_ here. Maybe this world wasn't all bad.

* * *

After a walk through the warehouse, which was divided into various sections to receive and sort incoming items, Ianto took Jack upstairs to the R&D labs. Jack had mentioned wanting to see the Doctor, and Ianto could think of no reason to deny the request. Pete had told Ianto the day before to give Jack full access. Privately, Ianto still felt unsure that this virtual stranger off the street should be allowed such broad admittance to the building, but Pete's word was law.

He wasn't fully surprised, either, to see the glances Jack gave -- and received -- as they passed people in the halls. Handsome, charismatic Jack Harkness was living up to every story Rose had told. Ianto had a vision of an endless string of harassment lawsuits (or complaints from those who hadn't been harassed) if the man did take a job there.

Greeting the Doctor, however, he showed nothing but warm friendliness. The Doctor eagerly hustled Jack over to his bench to show off his latest project, and Jack teased him over the sonic screwdriver he'd built for himself: not as sleek as the last model, but fully functional. Within moments, the level of technobabble in the room had risen well beyond Ianto's comprehension, and he was relieved when his mobile rang; stepping quietly out of the room, he saw that Rose was calling and smiled as he answered. She'd mentioned she wanted to take Jack shopping for a better wardrobe -- and to get fitted for a groomsman's outfit for the wedding, in which it was already assumed he was taking part.

Ianto wasn't surprised. Actually, he was a little surprised that he hadn't been bumped out of the position of best man; Thomas and Jack had a clear rapport and friendship that had been obvious from the first. Ianto refused to feel resentful over that, however difficult it was to see Jack so comfortably slide into a position of friendship which Ianto had only gradually earned.

Confirming that he would bring Jack to meet Rose in the lobby, he stepped back into the room, clearing his throat to get Jack's attention. He and Thomas looked up from whatever it was they'd been absorbed in, and Ianto smiled neutrally. "Rose will be here shortly to collect you," he said, and Jack nodded and straightened.

"She'll want to stop in and say hello," the Doctor said, with an absent smile. Jack seemed to take the prompt, because he looked over at Ianto with the faintest smile.

"Why don't we stop and get some coffee?" he suggested. Ianto didn't quite comprehend the nostalgic look in his eyes, but he nodded.

"The employee cafeteria, then?" Ianto said, and led Jack from the room. Thomas and Rose would want a moment alone before Rose dragged Jack off to do some hardcore shopping; he was happy to make sure they got that moment.

* * *

It was seeing Ianto head straight for the vats of coffee that really drove the final nail home for Jack. The coffee had to have been sitting there for hours, and yet Ianto held a plastic cup under a tap without hesitation, then added a heaping helping of sugar and cream. He poured another for Jack, who accepted it, managing to conceal his look of revulsion, and together they took a table by one of the tall windows overlooking London.

"You're not a coffee aficionado, I take it," Jack said, for lack of any better conversational opener.

Ianto blinked and then shook his head, looking down at his cup. "No," he admitted. "I suppose not. This stuff isn't great, though it's better when it's fresh." He sipped at his cup and shrugged. "But it gets the job done."

Memory rose, suddenly, stinging Jack's throat: Ianto offering his favourite mug, the coffee hot and fresh, strong, accompanied by a knowing smile. He looked down at the tepid cup and pushed it away, swallowing hard.

"Are you all right?" he heard Ianto say, and he nodded and smiled, though it felt horribly false on his face.

"Fine. I'm fine." Ianto was still watching him, his eyes concerned -- so familiar, God, those same eyes Jack had looked into so many times. Jack resisted the impulse to stand and run, to escape the long-suppressed memories forcing themselves back into his head.

Fortunately, Rose chose that moment to appear, her smile warm as she came into the cafeteria and sat down next to him. "There you are!" she said, reaching over to steal the coffee he'd abandoned. "So, ready to go get a new wardrobe?"

It wasn't hard at all to look horrified, then, just to make her laugh. His relief faded somewhat when she turned to Ianto, insisting that he join them as well, but he supposed he should have expected it. If this world's Ianto was like his own -- and in most aspects, he seemed to be -- then his advice on clothing would be invaluable.

* * *

Guernsey on a Friday night was not Ianto's idea of a good time. Guernsey, on a Friday night, in the middle of a violent thunderstorm, was absolutely the furthest thing from a good time that Ianto could think of.

Sitting on the bench at the bus stop, pushing rain out of his hair, he briefly contemplated the course his life had taken that had led to these circumstances. Working for Torchwood: no, he wouldn't change that. He actually enjoyed his position, and he knew just what a rarity job satisfaction truly was. Befriending Rose and the Doctor -- Thomas -- was something he hadn't even had a choice in; even if he had, he wouldn't change that, either. He genuinely liked them both, and Pete and Jackie as well. Tony, even, although he wasn't the best with children. His loyalty was something bred into him, something he wouldn't alter even if he could.

Thus it was that he had had to drive to Southampton to take a ferry to Guernsey to catch a bus to his final destination, outside a gay bar, on what had to be one of the wettest nights of the year, in search of someone who patently didn't want to be followed. It would explain why the man had left on an evening when the weather was so bad that zeppelin service was out and it looked a good chance that the electricity might soon go as well. And in truth, Ianto would have been happy to see the back of him... except that Rose had been crying.

With a sigh, he stood, slung his bag over his shoulder, and stalked across the street and into the bar. It was a mellow place, pool tables in one corner and dartboards nearby; patrons filled the tables and laughed over the music from the jukebox. If it wasn't for the fact that he was so wet, tired, and angry, Ianto might have enjoyed the atmosphere.

As it was, his eyes latched on Jack Harkness immediately and he felt a surge of annoyance rise yet again. Harkness was at one of the pool tables, clearly hustling the locals; even now, he leaned over (making no small show of himself, for that matter) to tip a final ball into a pocket and win the match. He grinned as he stood, accepting his winnings with a cheerful air. Ianto stood calmly by the door, waiting to be noticed. He knew it wouldn't take long; a man like Harkness, a former soldier and warrior of his repute, would always be scanning the place, keeping an eye on his surroundings.

Indeed, it only took a moment. Harkness's gaze swept the room even as he laughingly challenged another man to a game; the moment his eyes met Ianto's, though, Harkness's whole attitude changed. He held up his hands, declaring that he was done for the night, and stepped away to let another group claim the table. Folding his arms, Ianto watched Harkness take his coat and start toward him; then he stopped, as if realizing what Ianto already knew: that this was the only public door into the establishment, and going behind the bar to get out the back would cause a scene.

Shaking his head a little, Harkness approached Ianto at a more leisurely pace. "All right," he said, holding his hands up as if in surrender. "You found me. Now what?"

Ianto raised an eyebrow. "That's it? No protest?"

Harkness's mouth drew up at the corner, a feral sort of smile. "Oh, you'll be thinking again if you think I'm coming back with you. But there's no reason to be rude about it. Look, I'll buy you a pint. No one's going anywhere in that storm, anyway," he added, as -- almost as if on cue -- a fresh peal of thunder battered the sky outside.

Ianto followed Harkness over to the bar, dropping his bag at his feet and sitting down. He curled a hand around the pint glass the bartender sat down before him, but didn't drink from it. The last thing he needed was to be dull-witted around Harkness. "Why did you leave?" he asked.

Harkness, by comparison, was thirsty; he took a long pull from his glass before responding. "You're joking, right?" he said. "The note I left--"

"It said you'd had enough, yeah, I got that," Ianto replied. "Rose read it to me."

"And sent you after me?" Harkness concluded, eyebrow raised.

"I came on my own," Ianto said. "I couldn't stand hearing her cry like that." Harkness winced; _good_ , Ianto thought.

"I _said_ I'd come back for the wedding," Harkness said. His voice was low; Ianto had to lean in to hear him above the noise. "I said so in the note. I just couldn't-- I couldn't--" He swallowed and then took another gulp of his lager. Ianto watched him dispassionately as he wiped his mouth, stared at the bar between them. "I can't work for Torchwood," he said. "Not again. It's too much."

"No one's forcing you," Ianto tried.

Harkness's gaze rose, flinty and hard. "You're joking, right? Ever since you found me, they've been trying to stuff it down my throat. You've been there, you've seen it. That night at the house. When you gave me the tour. It's all Rose talks about. Jackie won't hear anything I say. Pete just tells me how valuable I'd be, what an asset I'd make--" Harkness broke off with a snarl that sent a ripple down Ianto's spine, got to his feet, and drained the pint glass in a final swallow. "So you can just fuck off back to them and tell them I love them, but I won't live under their thumbs."

This was about far more than a job, Ianto realised, several moments too late. He stood, too, grabbing at his bag and following Harkness toward the door. "I can't let you go," he said, reaching for a broad shoulder. "I won't go back empty-handed."

"You think I care about what you do?" Harkness shrugged him off without even a glance. "Go back to London, or do -- do whatever you want, I don't care. Just leave me alone."

That was the moment the lights flared and then went out altogether. A chorus of moans rose as the jukebox cut out and the televisions flickered and died; over the unhappy noise, the bartender's voice called for everyone to just calm down, the lights would probably be back on in just a moment. Ianto took advantage of the momentary confusion to grab Harkness's arm, stopping him from going any further.

Harkness sighed, his hand on the door. "Let me go, will you?"

"I came here to bring you back," Ianto said. "I didn't want to do this, but I can technically claim you as an interdimensional traveller."

"Yeah?" Harkness snorted. "Good luck with that." He nudged Ianto's hand away, more firmly this time. Behind them, the crowd had quieted down to listen to the radio the bartender had turned on; an announcement was being made to the effect that the bad weather had stopped all travel to or from the island until at least morning. Almost on cue, a pair of PCs came in through the door Jack had been about to open. Ianto stepped back to let them in. They stopped just inside the door, and before any protests could be made, one raised his voice to announce that a major transformer had blown and that everyone should make their way to lodging.

Grinning at Ianto, Harkness pushed out the door. On his heels, a stream of patrons began to move out to the street, most of them pulling up hoods or grabbing sheafs of newspaper to protect their heads as they ran for cover. With a groan, Ianto moved into the crowd, jostling his way outside and praying he hadn't lost Harkness.

Thankfully, he could still make out the distinctive shape of the man as he crossed the street to a hotel just opposite. It didn't look like much, but Ianto didn't care at the moment: _any port in a storm_ , he thought ruefully, and jogged after, heedless of the rain.

Even in the brief moments that it took for him to cross the road, Ianto was soaked to the skin, and he shivered as he entered the hotel's air-conditioned lobby. Unsurprisingly, the place was filling up, and he had to join a sizable queue at the reception desk. He cursed Jack's name again as he saw the clerks beginning to turn people away; Harkness had managed, through luck and timing, to make it impossible for Ianto to keep tracking him.

Almost. Smiling to himself as he remembered he'd brought his Torchwood ID with him, he stepped up to the newly vacated desk and pulled his badge out of his wallet.

"Another key to Jack Harkness's room?" he asked, and the man gaped at the ID for a moment before turning to retrieve a new keycard. Ianto rarely used Torchwood's name to throw his weight around, but tonight, he felt, warranted such an occasion. Though it wasn't a government-run organisation, Torchwood had enough pull with the government that most people didn't know the difference -- something which was working in his favour tonight. He smiled, accepted the key from the clerk, and turned to the lifts.

* * *

Somewhere between the first and fifth floors, Ianto's resolve faltered. It was one thing to track Harkness to a bar and demand he return; another altogether to invade a private room. Ianto had been raised to respect personal space, to always be civil and polite. Though he was still angry at Jack for running out on the Tylers, he couldn't find it in himself to start a repeat of the same argument they'd had in the bar. Besides which, where would they go? It wasn't as if he could drag Jack out to the mainland and back to London tonight.

He stopped in front of the door of Jack's room, hand lifted to knock. Then, sighing, he stepped back until his back met the far wall and sank heavily to the floor. For the first time in a long time, Ianto had absolutely no idea what to do, other than appeal to Jack's good nature. And seeing as how he was still wondering if that existed... Maybe he should go back downstairs and see if the desk clerk knew of any hotels that had available rooms. Once he dried off, of course.

His head had sunk down to his knees, and he'd begun to shiver from the soaking his clothes had taken, when he heard the door opening. Looking up, he found himself blinking at Jack -- who, for his part, was blinking right back at Ianto.

"No room at the inn, huh?" Jack said after a moment.

Ianto managed a weak attempt at a smile. "I figured if I sat here and looked pathetic, someone might let me sleep on their sofa."

Jack inhaled, let it out slowly, then turned so that he was sideways in the doorway, holding it open. "Well, come on in. I have a spare bed."

"Are you sure?" Ianto heard himself ask, even as he scrambled to his feet and pulled his bag over his shoulder. Jack exhaled and nodded.

"Don't make me change my mind," he suggested, his voice surprisingly gentle, and Ianto gratefully stepped into the room. It was warmer than the hallway; Ianto sighed as he set his bag down on the untouched bed, then sat next to it, scrubbing his face with his hands.

"I started water," Jack added, closing the door. "If you want some coffee or tea. It might warm you up."

"Thank you," Ianto said, quiet, and Jack shrugged as he came back to sit down on the bed he'd claimed.

"Even I'm not so coldhearted as to let someone freeze in the corridor all night." His eyebrow rose.

Ianto sighed, his gaze dropping to the floor. "I never thought you were," he said. After a moment, he looked up at Jack. "And I'm sorry. I'll go in the morning, I'll leave you be. I didn't mean to be an arse before."

Jack sat back a little, shaking his head. "You weren't. Trust me. It's good Rose has people who care about her that much. She deserves it."

"They -- they mean a lot to me. They're the only family I have," Ianto said, his throat going thick for a moment. "I get a little defensive of them. So you can see why I flew off the handle."

"I can," Jack nodded. From his posture, drawn up with his arms folded, Ianto could tell the conversation was making him uncomfortable. Ianto stood, moving around the bed to unzip his bag.

"I'm going to take a shower and warm up," he said. "Let's -- let's just call a truce for tonight, all right?"

Jack nodded again; after a moment, he got up, crossing the room to the desk where the little electric kettle stood with its tray of accoutrements. As Ianto took out his pajamas and toiletries, Jack poured water and added a packet of instant coffee, then held it out. "This should help," he said.

Blinking, Ianto took the cup from him. "Thank you," he murmured, and took it into the restroom with his other things.

He sipped the coffee as he undressed, shivering more violently now. The hotel had its own generator, at least, so the power was still on and the water in the shower hot. Ianto cleaned himself quickly, tensed in anticipation of the hot water cutting out at any moment, but it lasted until he'd rinsed off. Relieved, he dried himself and pulled on his pyjamas: an old pair of soft drawstring bottoms and a plain t-shirt. Coffee in hand, he emerged to find that Jack had also prepared for bed... which, for Jack, apparently involved stripping off completely.

Ianto caught himself staring and ordered himself to stop at once. His brain completely ignored him. Of course he'd noticed that Jack was a blindingly handsome man; one would have to be dead from the neck up not to be aware of that. Ianto had tried hard (and mostly succeeded at it) not to imagine what Jack looked like under the casual modern outfits he'd taken to wearing, but this image burned out any conjured thoughts. Broad shoulders, tanned skin, a wide chest tapering to narrow hips, only the slightest softness around his middle, and further down...

Ianto felt the cup slip from his hand, heard it bounce as it hit the carpeted floor. "Fuck," he swore, cheeks flaming, and knelt to pick it up. Thankfully, he'd drunk most of the vile instant coffee already, and only a few drops stained the carpet. He could hear Jack's laugh, warm and bright, and very consciously focused on mopping up the stains with the towel he'd had around his shoulders.

"You all right there?" Jack asked, much closer now. Ianto's eyes darted over and saw that Jack had put some pyjama bottoms on. _Thank Christ_ , he told himself, and nodded, scooping up the cup and standing again.

"Sorry," he said. "I. Sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry for." Jack was amused now, his eyes so friendly it was hard to remember that just a few minutes ago he'd been staring flintily at Ianto. "Didn't mean to startle you."

"I'm all right." Ianto darted around Jack and put the cup down, dropping his towel next to it and turning back to fetch his wallet. "I'll just. I'll go check the vending machines. I'm sure room service won't be delivering tonight."

"Funny you should say that," Jack chuckled. "I tried calling them while you were in the shower, and they laughed so loud I could hear them without the phone. But you might have some luck with the machines." His intense manner had subsided a bit; as he returned to his bed, Ianto managed to look up at him without blushing. "Go on," Jack added, pulling the duvet back and sliding under it. "I won't run out on you while you're gone."

"I didn't think you would," Ianto said, only a little defensive.

Jack exhaled, letting his head fall back against the headboard. He was quiet when he replied, so much so that Ianto had to move closer to hear him. "I'm used to running," he said. "It's easier. Don't have to face things that way. It's why I left my world. But I've been doing too much of it lately." Lifting his head, he met Ianto's eyes again. "You're right, too; I do need a legal status if I'm going to stay here, and that looks like a certainty for the next good while. So I'll come back with you."

"Really?" Ianto blinked. He'd expected anything but this calm resolve, but Jack's eyes were clear, if faintly pained as if by distant memory.

"Really." Jack nodded, his mouth twitching in what might have been the beginning of a smile. "Here, I'll prove it." Lifting his wrist, he flipped open the cover of his wristband -- the only article of clothing he'd been wearing when Ianto emerged from the shower -- and typed several rapid commands into it. Ianto had often wondered what the wristband was (fancy mobile? futuristic PDA?), but he saw that if nothing else, it served a basic text-message function. His mobile vibrated on the bed, and Jack nodded in satisfaction as he closed the cover. "There," he said.

Intrigued, Ianto picked up his mobile and saw that, even though there was practically no reception here due to the storm, he'd received the message. "It's because we're in close proximity," Jack explained as Ianto flipped over to the messages screen. There, he read Jack's brief note, which stated that he'd had a temporary loss of sanity, but Ianto had made him see reason and they'd be back in London when the weather cleared.

Ianto couldn't help smiling a little as he dropped his mobile to the bed again. "They'll think we're shagging," he commented, and was pleased by Jack's smile.

"You think?" Jack chuckled and folded his arms behind his head. "That went to Rose, Thomas, Jackie and Peter. There's a CC on there if you need to see it."

Shaking his head, Ianto got to his feet once more. "I believe you," he said. "Want anything from the machines?"

"No, thanks." Jack tipped his head a little, watching Ianto. "You believe me? Really?"

He sounded a little disbelieving, and Ianto shrugged. "Sure. You sent that message, you're committed. It's a shame," he added, feeling something a little more like himself. "I was looking forward to cuffing you to the bed."

On Jack's surprised laughter, Ianto headed out, smirking to himself.

* * *

Looking around the room, Jack allowed himself a pleased smile. Thomas's stag do had been an unequivocal success; though he had dreaded the thought of putting together a social event like this when Rose first approached him, now he was glad he'd taken it on. He'd once been very good at planning parties, after all, and a stag do pretty much took care of itself. He'd found the venue, a restaurant with a private party room large enough to contain the sizable group of co-workers and friends Thomas had made in his time here; he'd paid for a pair of strippers, male and female, who had a reputation for putting on a classy burlesque-style act; he'd made sure that there'd be plenty of alcohol flowing. And it had all gone very well, if he did say so himself.

The pleasant evening was finally giving way to night, though, and in clumps and groups, attendees were beginning to trickle out. Jack made sure Thomas got one of the first cabs; he had a feather boa wrapped around his neck, and Jack could only imagine Rose's reaction when he got home (her own hen do was planned for the following evening). As host, he felt obligated to make sure everyone got off safely, so he'd called to have several cabs lined up and waiting for the revellers, and he stood outside, checking them all to make sure they were either safe to drive or taking a cab home. It worked out well, at least until the last straggler emerged from the restaurant and Jack saw who it was: Ianto.

They'd come to something of a working truce in the week since Jack had returned to London. Sometime during that night in Guernsey, Jack had told himself he'd had to start treating this world's Ianto as his own person. It wasn't his fault that he bore the face and demeanour of Jack's dead lover. Not his fault that his daily work brought him into contact with Jack (who had taken up a position as Thomas's assistant in his lab, helping him identify artefacts and handing over instruments during his experiments); not his fault that their social circles were so similar, owing to the way Jackie and Pete had more or less adopted Ianto. And it wasn't fair to Ianto for Jack to keep treating him as if he didn't exist, especially since he'd seen the flash of humour and warmth in Ianto that night in Guernsey.

So he made an effort. And he could see that it was working; after the first startled glance when Jack gave him a warm smile of greeting, Ianto had returned it, and he'd felt a gradual easing of the tension between them.

Now, though, he bit his lip when he saw that there were no cabs left. Ianto stood on the pavement, looking lost, his eyes muddled and hazy from drink. Jack had seen him throwing back shots with a couple of the R&D boffins earlier and wondered just how drunk Ianto was. Seeing Ianto fumbling for his mobile confirmed it; he could barely locate his hands, let alone his phone.

Sighing, Jack stepped closer, making sure Ianto was aware of his presence. "Need a lift?" he asked.

"I, I forgot my shirt," Ianto said plaintively. The shirt in question, a button-down he'd worn over an old t-shirt, had disappeared sometime during the night, Jack recalled; Ianto must have stayed behind to retrieve it and subsequently missed the cabs.

"Come on," Jack said, and gently turned Ianto with one hand, starting toward the carpark. "I'll drive you home."

Ianto blinked, gaze slowly tracking up to find Jack's face. "You'll...?" he managed. He came to a stop, trainers squeaking on the pavement. "No," he said suddenly, confusing Jack, who turned to look at him. "I'll. I'll find a cab."

"Seriously, Ianto, it's fine. You're in no shape for it, now let me give you a lift." Jack couldn't comprehend the sudden stubbornness that had taken hold of Ianto, but he didn't feel like dealing with it. Rose would kill him if anything happened to Ianto, anyway.

Fortunately, after a long moment, Ianto relented. He was swaying on his feet, and Jack rested a hand lightly on his back to guide him. "Come on," he urged, trying not to notice the warmth of Ianto through the thin, worn t-shirt. He was just warm because of all the alcohol he'd drunk, that was all.

He managed to get Ianto settled in the passenger seat of his little electric car without incident, and, with Ianto reassuring him that he wouldn't puke, he set off for the block of flats known to locals as Torchwood Towers. Ianto made a couple of attempts to find a different radio station, then gave it up in favour of staring out the window.

"Was a good party," he said suddenly, into the silence (Jack had cut the radio off after Ianto hit static). Jack glanced at him and smiled a little.

"Yeah? Thanks. Thomas seemed to enjoy himself, that's the most important thing."

Ianto gave a sort of wobbling nod. His hands turned the shirt over and over, wadding it up into a ball. "Better than I would have done."

"What do you mean?" Jack asked absently, drawing the car to a stop at a light. He looked over at Ianto again, curious.

"I was gonna throw the stag do," Ianto said, sounding woeful. "I, I'm the best man, it was my respons-responsibility." He swallowed and looked down. "But you beat me to it."

Jack's mouth opened. He was about to respond when a horn sounded out from behind him, and he looked up to see that the light had changed. Cursing under his breath, he drove on. "I'm sorry," he said after a minute. "I didn't know. If I had -- but Rose told me to do it, so I assumed..." He trailed off, his throat working. "I'm sorry."

"Don't," Ianto said, his voice surprisingly sober. "Don't be." Jack spared another look over at Ianto, who was still staring forlornly at the balled-up shirt on his lap. "You did a great job. Better than what I was going to do. So it's good."

"All right," Jack said warily. A few moments later, he'd pulled into the parking garage for the building; he drove up to the closest entry point, which let directly into the building, and put the car in park. "Do you need help getting upstairs?"

"'m fine." Ianto reached for the door's handle and started to push it open. Then he stopped, looking up at Jack again. His eyes were big and a little glazed from the drink, and Jack started to reach for Ianto, worried he was about to either pass out or sick up.

Instead, Ianto pushed himself to Jack and kissed him hard. Startled, Jack didn't respond for a moment, simply too astonished by Ianto's move; then, inhaling, he started to pull back. Ianto moved with him, making a low hungry sound as his mouth sought Jack's again. That sound made Jack inhale; he remembered it so well, his Ianto had always made a noise just like that--

Jack closed his eyes and kissed Ianto back. It was a mistake, such a bad idea to do this, but for a moment, at least, he could indulge. So much was similar; Ianto was warm and sweet against him, tasting deliciously of the alcohol he'd drunk. But there were subtle differences, too, things Jack noticed only because he had kissed his own Ianto so many times. The scent of him, somehow unlike what he was used to; the touch of his hands, more urgent and needy. The way he mewled a little, sloppy and eager and loose from the liquor fueling him. With some reluctance -- this Ianto was different, but it was good, too -- he gently pulled back from the kiss.

Ianto blinked at him, dark-eyed, glossy-lipped. Jack's heart squeezed so tight it felt as if he'd been knifed in the chest: there was no difference at all, now, between this Ianto and the one from his world, and a fresh wave of sorrow and guilt hit him hard. "I'm sorry," he said, smoothing a hand over Ianto's hair and leaning back, urging him to do the same.

"Wha--?" Ianto was already leaning forward again, puzzled, looking lost. Jack set a gentle hand in the center of Ianto's chest to keep him at bay.

"I'm sorry," Jack said again, hearing the roughness in his voice. "This is -- this is a bad idea. You should go." He had to swallow hard; tears pricked at the corners of his eyes and he squeezed them shut.

After a moment, he heard the car door open, the vehicle rocking slightly as Ianto shifted and stepped out of it. The door slammed behind him, and when he opened his eyes again, Ianto was gone. Jack let him go.

* * *

"I wish you wouldn't--" Ianto said, but Pete Tyler had already hung up on him. With a groan, he put the receiver down again and closed his eyes. He was perfectly capable of making it into work on his own; the absolute last thing he wanted was for Jack Harkness to chauffeur him around. But he had no choice in the matter, it seemed: when Pete made up his mind, that was it.

Sighing, Ianto pushed himself upright and immediately regretted it. His broken ankle throbbed; he hadn't forgotten, exactly, that he couldn't put any weight on it, but habit kept him from actively remembering half the time. He reached for the crutches he'd had propped on the bedside table and let his weight rest on them for a moment; then he headed slowly out into the main room of his flat.

At least he was already dressed. He'd planned to take the bus; while he could probably handle steps, he didn't think he was quite up to dealing with the fast pace of the Tube just yet. But now Jack was coming over to give him a lift to work, and Ianto would have to talk to him after avoiding him for two weeks.

Ianto swore under his breath as he packed his laptop case. It wasn't that he didn't want to see Jack; after the drunken snog he'd forced on Jack, however, he figured Jack would have no interest in talking to him. His rejection had been gentle, but very sure; Ianto didn't remember much of the night, but he remembered that, as well as the kiss. The memory had seared itself into his brain, the way he'd surged at Jack and how Jack had actually kissed him back for a few startling moments before pushing him away. Now, however, he'd have no choice in seeing Jack -- not unless he wanted to call Pete back and tell him just why he shouldn't have sent Jack. And that most certainly was not on his agenda for the day, or, for that matter, for his lifetime.

He was zipping the case when the doorbell rang. "Shit," he cursed, and hobbled toward the door on one crutch. He had a gratifying moment when, on opening the door, Jack's eyes widened; then he stumped back again, letting Jack into the flat. "I'm almost ready," he said. "I'll just be a minute."

"Take your time," Jack said, and Ianto knew he was eyeing the foot, encased by a protective boot. "What happened?"

Ianto raised his voice so he could be heard from the bedroom. "I was helping David in R&D. Box fell, came down wrong. Broke my ankle." He pulled his jacket on, made sure his tie was neat and straight, and took up the other crutch as he came back into the main room.

"I didn't know," Jack said. Ianto's eyebrow went up; he figured the gossip had gone around quickly, or that Pete would have mentioned it at dinner, if nothing else.

"You can go ahead if you want." Ianto shifted a crutch carefully to get hold of his case. "I was just going to take the bus in. I can manage that much, at least."

"No, God." Jack came forward and took the case, which was already slipping from Ianto's fingers. "I'm here, and anyway, you're in no shape to manage on your own."

Ianto felt a wash of embarrassment and resentment, but he only nodded. "All right, then."

"Do you need anything else?" Jack asked, glancing around.

"Just my coat." Ianto started toward the door, where his heavy wool coat hung on the coatrack. Again, Jack was swifter; he moved around Ianto and took the coat, holding it up. Sighing a little, Ianto let the crutches lean on the wall by the door and turned, carefully letting his weight rest on his good foot, as Jack slid the coat up his arms and settled it on his shoulders, smoothing the fabric at his collar. The oddly intimate gesture took Ianto by surprise; as if Jack realised it at the same moment, he stepped away, handing Ianto the crutches again.

"Here you go," he said.

The drive over to Torchwood was quiet, for which Ianto was grateful; no stilted attempts at conversation or references to the night of the stag do. Jack inquired about the injury, and Ianto filled him in on the details: it was a minor fracture, he hadn't had too much swelling, and he was in good enough shape that he'd been given a lightweight fiberglass cast instead of a heavier plaster one.

"I should be able to have it taken off in the next couple of weeks, if everything goes well," he said, stretching his leg out a bit. When he'd been getting settled in the car, Jack had leaned over to move the seat back for him, to give his casted foot some room. That had been a slightly awkward moment, Jack's hand casual between his knees as he pulled up the lever under the seat. As if he'd suddenly realised the position, Jack had pulled back almost at once.

"That's good," Jack said now, taking a final turn and driving into the underground carpark. He came around to the lifts and stopped the car there. "Here you go. Will you manage all right?"

"I think so," Ianto said. Retrieving his crutches, he popped the door and pried himself out of the car, turning to take his case from the floor of the passenger seat. It took a moment, but then he had everything negotiated, and he nodded.

Jack did, too, giving Ianto a concerned look. "I'll be back to pick you up at the end of the day," he said. "Just call the lab." He'd been working with Thomas, mostly by default since he hadn't wanted a specific role in Torchwood and nothing really seemed to suit him; the two worked well together, anyway, identifying alien objects and tech and developing new ideas.

Nodding again, Ianto carefully pivoted and headed for the lifts. He hoped this wouldn't become a daily event; he didn't think he could quite take that. Hard enough to know that he wanted Jack without the added awareness that Jack didn't want him -- was, if the rejection of his kiss was anything to judge by, not even remotely attracted to him.

As he waited for the lift to carry him up, he sighed. He really needed to get laid.

* * *

By the end of the day, Ianto was more than ready to go home. He'd been warned to keep off his leg and elevate it as much as possible; of course, today had been the day Pete wanted to tour the entire building, it felt like. Inspecting the labs and the tech suite to see how the various projects were coming along was a standard routine; today, however, Ianto was thoroughly worn out by it.

Thankfully, Pete had taken one look at him as they'd headed back to his office, seen the tightness in his face, and told him to stay home for the rest of the week. Any other time, Ianto would have argued, but at that particular moment, he thought he'd never had a better prospect. He gratefully assented and limped into his own office to call down to Thomas's lab.

Ten minutes later, Ianto emerged from the lift in the underground garage to find Jack there waiting for him. He was impressed -- he'd half-expected to be kept waiting -- but instead, Jack hopped out of the car and came up to take Ianto's case and help him to the car. More grateful than he could express, Ianto heaved himself into the passenger seat and dropped his head back.

"Thanks," he murmured, when Jack had settled back into the car and started out of the garage.

"It's no trouble, really," Jack said. "Are you -- is there anywhere you need to stop on the way home?"

Ianto shook his head, closing his eyes. He was exhausted enough that he didn't even care about whether Jack drove them off the road. "Need to stop at Tesco," he said, "but that's all right, I'll put together an online order tomorrow. Too tired tonight."

"That's no good." Jack actually sounded concerned, and despite his tiredness, Ianto lifted his head to blink at him. Jack reached into a pocket and carefully extracted a notebook with a pen clipped to it. "Here. Write down what you need. I'll drop you off and then go back and get it."

Ianto found himself speechless for a moment. "Jack," he said when he found his voice again. "You really don't have to do that. I - I've got enough to get by."

"Nope," Jack said cheerfully. "Not happening. Start writing."

Swallowing, Ianto bent his head and began jotting a list. This was beyond strange, but he wasn't going to argue when he was so tired.

* * *

Jack found himself smiling as he made his way through Tesco's. He wasn't a big fan of grocery shopping, as a rule, but it felt good to work down the list Ianto had given him, moving up one aisle and down the next. Though he tried to stick to the list as much as possible, he found himself reaching for things that 'his' Ianto had liked: real butter rather than margarine, thick-cut rashers of bacon, a brand of beer he remembered had often been in Ianto's fridge. He was aware, as he paid for the groceries, that he'd gone well over the list, but he didn't really care.

When Pete had asked him -- well, ordered him, there was no asking about it -- to go and bring Ianto in to work that morning, Jack had wanted to turn him down. Technically, he could have; he worked for Torchwood as a freelance agent these days, even if he did put in forty- or fifty-hour weeks. But he hadn't wanted to piss Pete off, so he went to get Ianto. Surprised to see Ianto with the cast, he'd felt the heat go out of him somehow.

Ianto's kiss still burned in his memory. It had been so sudden, so unexpected and (despite Ianto's drunkenness) strangely sweet. Different from the Ianto he'd known, and yet... somehow Jack couldn't be angry at him for something he couldn't help. Of course Jack was attracted to him. It was like having an exaggerated version of a type, he thought wryly as he loaded bags of groceries into his car. He'd fallen for Ianto's deep voice and his beautiful Welsh vowels, for his rare smiles and the way he'd raise an eyebrow before making some witty comment. This world's Ianto wasn't so very different. A few years older, true, but he wore the same sharp suits and had the same sly sense of humour... even if he didn't care for coffee.

 _Really_ , Jack told himself, _it's time you stopped avoiding him_. He couldn't help but think that his Ianto would have disapproved of his behaviour, and he sighed, shaking his head as he got back into the car and started it up. At least he wasn't running away this time.

He managed to get all the groceries in his arms so that he'd only have to make one trip up to Ianto's flat. He'd just drop them off, make sure Ianto was set for the night, and then leave.

* * *

"Jesus," Ianto said when he opened the door for Jack. "Did you leave any food for anyone else?"

Jack couldn't help but laugh, surprised and pleased at Ianto's reaction. "Just point me at the kitchen and I'll be out of your hair."

Stepping back, Ianto gestured with his free hand -- the other taken up by the crutch he'd used to hobble to the door -- and Jack headed in that direction. He hadn't seen much of Ianto's flat that morning, though he knew (from a night spent with Eric from IT) that the whole building was made up of high-class, furnished apartments. Now, though, he gave a low whistle and set the bags down on the counter. "Nice place you've got here," he commented, as Ianto limped after him.

"Thanks," Ianto said, with a quiet smile. "I like it, anyway."

In addition to the groceries, Jack had picked up a couple of fresh sandwiches and cups of soup; he took them out first, bringing them to the table where Ianto had settled. "Here," he said. "This way you don't have to worry about trying to cook tonight."

Ianto was quiet as Jack went about putting the rest of the things away, making sure the cold things were refrigerated and lining up the others on the counter. When he'd finished, he turned to see that Ianto hadn't touched the food yet. "Not hungry?" he asked.

"There's enough for two," Ianto said. "If you'd like to join me."

Surprised again, Jack simply nodded, turning to get spoons and plates for both of them. He hadn't had plans for the evening, though he hadn't wanted to stay -- being around Ianto was still strange and a bit off-putting. Yet he retrieved bottles of water from the fridge, then sat, opening a sandwich.

"So," he said, in an effort to make conversation more than anything, "you've been here a while? In this flat, I mean."

Ianto nodded as he took a bite of the soup, still warm in its insulated cup. "Got it not long after I started working for Torchwood, so about... four years ago? It's pretty popular with a lot of people who work at Torchwood, Pete recommended it to me."

"Torchwood takes care of its own," Jack said, and it must have come out a little acerbic, since Ianto raised an eyebrow at him.

"Well, it's part of the incentive," he replied, picking slices of raw onion off his sandwich. "I think I've mentioned it before, how a lot of people don't trust technology now." Jack nodded, and he went on, smiling a little. "So that means we have to work a lot harder to get employees and keep them. Better benefits, an overall higher pay scale than most of the market. That sort of thing."

Jack nodded; he couldn't help a little smile, making mental comparisons. "Not much like my world's Torchwood," he said. "Everything operated in secrecy. The main branch had a couple of shell companies for cover, and my branch... we kept it under the radar." That was only partially true, he reflected; by the end of things, most of Cardiff had been aware of them in one way or another. Still, they'd made the effort.

"Rose said you were in charge?" Ianto asked around a mouthful of sandwich. With an effort, Jack nodded.

"In Cardiff. Torchwood One was the London branch; we were under their purview, at least until the Cybermen invaded," he said. He was expecting the usual thickness in his throat; it was a strange sensation not to feel it. But Rose was alive, and the tragedy long past. He'd let go of the pain at some point, without even noticing. "Were you working for Torchwood then?" he asked.

Ianto nodded. "It wasn't what it is now, obviously. Pete organised everything to support the effort to stop the Cybermen from invading your dimension. But it was the Doctor who fixed it."

"And Rose came here," Jack said, nodding briefly. For so long he'd thought her gone; he still remembered the joy he'd felt, standing on an alien planet at the end of the universe, when the Doctor had told him that Rose was still alive.

"Rose and Jackie," Ianto said. His chuckle was wry. "It was interesting."

'Interesting' was an understatement, Jack was sure, but he smiled too. "Instant family," he commented; then, succumbing to curiosity, he added, "What about yours? Back in Wales?" He remembered what Ianto had said in Guernsey: that the Tylers were the only family he had.

Ianto went still, looking down at his soup. After a moment, he swallowed. "I have a sister," he said. "Rhiannon. She's in Newport. I haven't seen her since I started working for Torchwood."

Jack felt his mouth drop open. Utterly without intent, he reached over, resting a hand on Ianto's wrist. "I'm sorry," he said after a moment.

Shaking his head a little, Ianto forced himself to smile at Jack, though he left his arm under Jack's hand. "It's all right. I'm not -- I mean, it's not like it just happened yesterday."

"Because of Torchwood, though?" Jack couldn't help a look of disgust. "It's not as if you made the Cybermen."

"It doesn't matter. Most people -- well." Ianto shrugged, making himself take another bite of his sandwich. "Like I said. A lot of people who work for Torchwood have been cut off from their families or friends. We do a lot with tech, so we get the stigma. All we can do is keep trying."

Jack couldn't argue that. "Still a shame, though."

"Well, Pete has long-term plans to change that," Ianto said, almost absently tracing his spoon through the remaining soup. "That's why so many of our products are introduced into the market under other names, under the radar, sort of. It'll be ten years, minimum, before Pete puts anything out there with the Torchwood logo..." All at once he stopped, shaking himself a little. "Sorry about that. Nearly went off into the mission statement there."

Laughing, Jack pushed himself away from the table. "I think that's my cue," he said. "I'll put this stuff away and you can try and get some rest. Will you need a lift tomorrow?" Purposely making his manner brisk, he stood and began to pile up the rubbish from their meal.

Ianto looked as if he wanted to protest, but he sat back after a moment, clearly giving in. "No, I've got the rest of the week off," he said. "Pete told me to stay home, and after today, I can't think of a good reason not to. I've got everything I need."

"Good," Jack said. "Well, if you need me to make another Tesco's run, I'll be glad to help."

Ianto snorted. "That's quite all right. You've stocked me up for at least the next month."

"All right, then." Binning the rest of the trash, Jack surveyed the kitchen and nodded. "I suppose I'll see you next week," he said, swallowing and then reaching for the jacket he'd taken off while they ate.

"Next week," Ianto agreed reaching for a crutch to push himself upright. "Thanks again, Jack," he said. His throat worked for a moment. Hastily, Jack shook his head.

"It was nothing, really," he insisted. "I'm glad to help."

Driving back to the Tyler estate, he was surprised to realise that it was true. Not only had it felt good to help Ianto out, but he'd enjoyed the evening. It almost made him feel guilty, as if he were somehow cheating on 'his' Ianto. But it couldn't be wrong to try and live in the present.

* * *

Standing in the carpark outside the gym, Ianto shivered a little. He could just go home, of course; there was nothing forcing him to stay here and wait for Jack. But there was no way he could let this go, not a chance in hell. Bile rose in his throat again and he choked it down. If he hadn't come to the gym at this time -- if he hadn't gone in to the locker room to change when he had--

But he had. He'd come to soak his ankle; a week on, and the scans showed it to be healing well enough that the doctor had given him a lighter cast, more of a wrap that latched around his ankle and then puffed up inside to prop the leg, and told him to soak it whenever he could. He'd decided to use the hydrotherapy tub at the gym, which was part of Torchwood's facilities (and its employee benefits package), since the water could get hotter there than in his tub at home.

And when he'd soaked until he couldn't take anymore and then gone to change back into street clothes, he'd seen Jack in one of the open shower stalls. A tall, skinny man knelt before him; Jack's strong hands were sunk into the shock of dark brown hair. Both naked, both wet from the shower spray; Jack's head thrown back against the tile, his mouth open, his eyes shut against the pleasure--

Ianto felt another surge of anger hit him hard. How dare Thomas cheat on Rose -- but even worse, it seemed to Ianto's mind, that Jack -- who professed to adore both of them -- would help him to do it.

For a moment, Ianto's resolve wavered. Jack _had_ travelled for a time with both Rose and the Doctor, of whom Thomas was a perfect clone. What if the three of them had... shared each other? Was it his place to interfere?

No, he decided after only a second's contemplation. Whatever their past relationship had been, Thomas and Rose were engaged to be married. That didn't include Jack, no matter how much Jack might wish it.

A moment later, the gym doors swung open. Jack was calling a farewell to someone inside, and then he turned, his smiling face clear in the lights illuminating the carpark. Arms folded, Ianto watched and waited. He'd found Jack's car easily enough, and now he straightened from where he'd been leaning against the bonnet.

"Ianto," Jack greeted him, a slightly puzzled smile on his face. It began to fade as Ianto stood there without responding. "Ianto?" Jack asked again.

"I can't fucking believe you," Ianto said in a low, angry voice. Jack flinched backward. "I can't fucking believe you'd do that."

"Do _what_?!" Jack exclaimed, bewildered.

"Help Thomas cheat on Rose." Ianto felt a small glow of satisfaction as the confusion deepened in Jack's eyes. "Don't even pretend to lie," he went on. "I saw you. In the locker room, I _saw_ you! How could you do that to her!"

Jack's face hardened all at once into stony anger. Despite his resolve, a flicker of fear darted through Ianto's chest.

"You'd like to believe that," Jack said. "Wouldn't you? God knows you don't want me around, you don't trust me." He inhaled. His hands made fists at his sides, and for a moment, Ianto prepared to duck. But Jack relaxed them again, with a visible effort. "That wasn't Thomas in there. I don't care what you think you saw, but I'd never fucking do that to him or to Rose." He stepped closer, snarling, glaring into Ianto's eyes. " _Never_."

Ianto sucked in a sharp, shivering breath. Jack took a step back; disgust filled his eyes now.

"Check the CCTV if you don't believe me," he added, negligent, and pushed past Ianto to get into his car.

"Maybe I will," Ianto said. But the wind had gone out of him, and he watched the taillights of Jack's car as it squealed out of the carpark.

* * *

Of course, he'd been wrong. He'd been an idiot, jumping to conclusions. He didn't even need to watch the CCTV -- not that he would have. Rose called him at home to ask him about a few last-minute details with the wedding, questions Thomas had asked her an hour earlier: the same time Ianto had seen Jack and the dark-haired man at the gym. Someone from Torchwood, probably, but most assuredly not Thomas.

Once he'd hung up with Rose, Ianto dropped his face to the table and left it there. He'd never be able to face Jack again.

* * *

The wedding of Rose Tyler and Thomas Wright was, without a doubt, one of the most elegant functions Jack had ever attended. It was also the social event of the season; most of Torchwood was there, it seemed like, as well as Jackie's society contacts and the friends Rose had made in her time on this world. Ianto was there, too, naturally. Jack had known he would be, though, which gave him a chance to prepare for it.

If the wedding had been a week earlier, Jack probably would have enjoyed the sight of Ianto in a tuxedo, standing by Thomas's side: he was the best man, and Jack didn't begrudge him the role. Even so, he kept his distance from Ianto, avoiding him at every possible chance.

It bothered Rose; he could tell. But to tell her why, after things had finally started to settle into normalcy between the two of them, would ruin the day. And that was the last thing he wanted to do, today of all days. So he stayed on the sidelines, holding Tony while Rose and Thomas shared their first dance and then when the floor opened up to everyone.

He told himself he didn't care when he saw Ianto out on the floor with another man -- though it did surprise him a bit that Ianto, whom he thought of as very private about his interests, was comfortable enough to bring a male date to the wedding. But he made himself look away. It was easier that way.

Eventually Jackie reclaimed her son and Rose took Jack's hand to drag him out to the floor, overriding his protests with a grin that he had never been able to resist. The music slowed even as he stepped into place opposite her, a strain of familiar music making him chuckle. "I remember this one," he said.

"Our song," she replied, her smile fond. They'd danced to Glenn Miller atop his Chula warship, tethered next to Big Ben, in 1941, when he'd thought her a Time Agent in pursuit of the ambulance he'd planted nearby. Even though Jack had never been able to come between Rose and the Doctor, he'd felt privileged to travel with them for a time, to share in that warmth and friendship.

"Tell me you're happy here, Jack," she said suddenly, her hands squeezing his. Jack blinked and looked down at her.

"You know I am." He smiled softly. "Honest. Even if my coming here was an accident, it was a happy one. I needed a new place to be, and where better than here?"

Her eyes narrowed a little. He hadn't told her about what had happened to precipitate his arrival -- the events leading up to the deaths of Ianto and Stephen. Though she'd asked repeatedly, he'd only said that he'd been trying to get away from Earth and somehow bounced himself here instead. But she didn't pursue it today; she just shook her head a little. Glitter shook out from her hair and settled on her shoulders.

"Ianto looks in a bit of trouble," she said absently. As they turned, Jack caught sight of him -- dancing with his date, as well, though he looked rather unhappy about it. The date, whom Jack recognised as one of the Accounting number-crunchers, was getting a little fresh. If this world's Ianto was anything like his own, Jack suspected Ianto wasn't enjoying it too much. Jack only made a sound of assent to Rose's observation, however.

Determined, she plowed on. "Have you two had a fight or something?" she asked. "I mean, you seemed to be getting along so well, and then suddenly he stopped coming over for dinner. I asked him and he said nothing was wrong..."

"Nothing is wrong," Jack said gently. He gave her hand a little squeeze, met her eyes with his own.

"I don't understand why you two can't be friends," she said, a little plaintive.

"Sometimes it's just not possible. You should know that." Jack smiled briefly; Rose was looking sad now and he wanted none of that on her wedding day. "Sometimes people just don't get along."

"But--" Rose began. Just then, the music changed, brightening in tone, and Thomas was at her elbow, asking if he could cut in. Jack nodded, smiling and stepping away. Though Rose still wore that stubborn look, dancing with her new husband had more appeal than pursuing the line of inquiry. Jack resolved to slip out as soon as possible, rather than face more questions.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ianto and his date doing that very thing -- though Ianto's date seemed a bit more enthusiastic about it than Ianto himself. Still, watching them leave the huge ballroom, Jack had to turn away and look for the bar. He needed a drink.

* * *

Ianto turned off the lights and closed the door behind him, leaning on it with a sigh. He didn't really want to go back down to the ballroom and face the reception, but he knew he had to; they still had a few major activities left, and his absence would be noted, he had no doubt. But he'd had to get Craig out of there. Now, standing in the corridor outside the hotel room he'd booked, he took a few moments to gather himself.

It had been a mistake to invite a date along to the wedding. Not only was it a foolish way to try and show Jack he didn't care (as if Jack _would_ care), but Craig turned out to be the worst possible choice. They got along fine at work, and Craig's Scottish accent and flirting had appealed to Ianto. Outside of Torchwood, though, the man had changed completely: he'd shown up to Ianto's flat already smelling strongly of liquor, and Ianto had nearly told him to go home. He'd been determined to endure the day, though, so he'd driven them both out to the beautiful hotel Rose and Thomas had chosen for the wedding.

And really, it was a beautiful wedding, decorated with copious amounts of flowers and silk ribbon, everyone looking lovely and splendid in their finery -- even Jack, though Ianto tried hard not to notice. He even found himself misting a little during the vows; Thomas's voice had choked up, and the tears welled in Rose's eyes when they spoke the words. Ianto had been proud and honoured to be part of it.

Craig had only continued drinking as soon as they made their way into the ballroom for the reception. Ianto found himself wishing Pete hadn't sprung for the open bar. There was no use for it now, though. When the man's unsubtle groping and leering had finally gotten to be too much -- Craig went from mildly annoying to stumbling drunk in the course of a couple of hours -- Ianto finally decided he'd had enough and dragged him back to the room. He got Craig tucked into bed, gently untangled his hands (the man seemed to have suddenly developed at least four more of his own), and promised he'd be back later. He didn't add that it would be to get his suitcase and drive himself back to London.

Inhaling, Ianto headed back to the lifts. He'd get through the evening for Rose and Thomas's sake.

* * *

The reception was still in full swing when Ianto re-entered the ballroom, and he smiled to see that a circle had formed, Rose and her bridesmaids sharing a moment together while her new husband looked on fondly, her father nearby. There were Jackie and Tony, both dolled up for the occasion; it really was lovely to see, the way Rose and Thomas had made a home for themselves here and how ready everyone was to join in their celebration.

As he surveyed the room, his eyes caught on Jack, standing alone to the side of the dance floor. Ellen, the head receptionist, was stepping away from him with a rueful smile, her body language clear: reluctance to leave, but she knew where she wasn't wanted. She'd approached him to dance, then. Ianto could hardly fault her taste.

Suddenly, the distance between himself and Jack seemed not only pointless, but stupid. He'd been a fool to assume what he had, and even if Jack didn't want to hear an apology, he had to say something. He stepped quietly up next to Jack, cleared his throat to get his attention.

Jack turned, slowly, as if he'd been expecting Ianto. His eyes were shuttered, unreadable.

"I'm sorry," Ianto said. His voice didn't seem to sound like his own. "I was an idiot. It was wrong of me to assume you'd do something like that. You've shown time and time again how much you respect Rose and Thomas, and it was entirely my own prejudice that made me accuse you. I know I can't ever say it enough, and I don't even know if you'll believe it, but I-- I am sorry." He couldn't look at Jack as he spoke; he had to stare out at the floor, the shapes of the dancers blurring in his eyes.

When Jack finally spoke, it was quiet enough that Ianto could only just hear him over the music. "You were only doing what you thought was right," he said, his voice a little rough. "I can't fault you for that. Thank you, though."

Ianto closed his eyes and swallowed. When he glanced at Jack again, he'd managed to make himself smile a little. He thought to offer his hand and ask for a truce between them, but then the music changed to a slower song, something he remembered from the 80s. On the floor, Thomas and Rose had found each other again, her hands caught in his; Ianto found himself wanting someone to look at him the way they gazed at each other, even if it was only for one night.

Without really thinking about it, he turned toward Jack, hand held out. "Would you dance with me?" he asked. He wasn't expecting a response, but the sudden pressure of Jack's hand in his was all the answer he needed, and he moved the few steps out to the floor, feeling dazed.

Ianto's hands moved tentatively, one on Jack's hip, the other finding Jack's; after a moment, Jack curled his hand around Ianto's and brought them both to rest against his chest, over his heart. Ianto swallowed. It was closer than he'd ever been to Jack, standing like this, feeling the crisp smooth material of the tuxedo jacket under his hand, smelling the natural spicy musk of him. With a flush of embarrassment, Ianto remembered kissing Jack in his car after the stag do; then, he'd been the sloppy-drunk and uninhibited idiot he'd seen Craig as tonight. He swallowed quietly and closed his eyes.

If Jack noticed, though, he didn't say anything. They'd found a quiet rhythm, swaying a little to the beat of the song, and Ianto found himself looking at Jack's hand, curved around his own, rather than meeting his eyes. He had long, square fingers, the knuckles scuffed and prominent, and for a moment Ianto dared allow himself to wonder what it might feel like to have those capable fingers touching him, stroking his skin. He barely breathed. He wanted to remember this moment, impress it in his memory; he was sure it would be the last he'd get with Jack.

Jack's head turned, just enough that Ianto could feel the slight brush of skin against his cheek. He trembled the slightest bit, and despite himself, he raised his eyes to Jack's. The man's eyes, normally such a bright blue, were dark, troubled, and Ianto found his throat working.

The kiss might have happened -- they were close enough, Jack's mouth inches from Ianto's, both of them focused on each other -- but for the sudden change in music to something bright and uptempo. Surprised by the shift, Ianto stepped away, letting his hands fall. He could only nod to Jack in mute thanks for the moment of grace. Jack met it with a brief smile. Then they were both being shuffled off the dance floor -- along with everyone else -- to make room for Rose and a chair and encouraging, shouting members of the wedding party. Time for the garter and the bouquet, then.

As Ianto moved back against the wall, he looked around for Jack. It was too much to hope for more tonight, but he hoped to share a smile, at least. Instead, he saw Jack's dark head and broad shoulders at the doors leading out to the hotel's lobby. Ianto sighed; still, it had been more than he'd dared hope for.

* * *

Ianto didn't like Australia.

All right, perhaps that wasn't fair. He liked Sydney -- he'd been there before, on holiday -- and Melbourne seemed decent, too. It was beautiful, too, in a rugged and raw sort of way. Still, after three days of nothing but driving on rocky hard ground and camping in the middle of nowhere, the only source of warmth Jack's body next to him and the fear of spiders and snakes keeping him awake, he was more than ready to be done with it.

It wasn't as if he'd had much of a choice, though. When the object first appeared, the burst of Artron radiation had registered so highly on their instruments that everyone had freaked out for a couple of hours. As the reports came in, though, Pete had gone quiet about it and ordered everyone back to work, gathering only a few of the high-level scientists, along with Jack and Ianto, to discuss it. (He would have asked Thomas, too, but he and Rose were gone to Greece for their honeymoon, and no one was willing to call them back until they knew what was happening.)

The reports were inconclusive, but worrying; data suggested that the object was affecting the area around it in some way, and it was simply blind luck that it had come down in an uninhabited region of the Australian outback, a place where even miners didn't bother to tread. "One thing's sure," Pete had said. "We need to find out what it's doing and shut it down."

Ianto hadn't really been surprised when Jack promptly volunteered to go. What did surprise him was that he'd offered his own services a moment later. He knew Jack wasn't thrilled about it; despite their dance at the wedding, things were still a little tense between them. But Pete only nodded agreement, and that was the end of it.

It bothered Ianto, a day or two later, to overhear Jack trying to argue Pete out of letting Ianto go. He'd been coming up to deliver Jack's travel documents -- even though they weren't going by traditional methods, Jack still needed identification -- and Pete's office door had been open enough that Ianto could hear every word. Jack wanted Ianto off the mission. Ianto was gratified by Pete's calm response: that there was no possible reason not to send him along, Ianto was an excellent field agent, and he'd sooner have Jack removed from the trip. Even so, Ianto found himself wondering why Jack was so negative toward him after everything. He supposed he deserved it, he thought gloomily.

After that came the disorienting "jump" using the teleport technology they had recently put into the final stages of development. While Ianto knew that it was perfectly safe, that it had been field-tested hundreds if not thousands of times, he still felt a revolting lurch in his stomach when they stood on the pad with all their equipment and just disappeared. A moment later, the helipad at the Sydney hotel materialized under their feet; they'd reached their target destination safely, but Ianto couldn't stop himself stumbling to his knees and vomiting.

He wasn't suited to camping, either, though he'd made sure to pack well for it. Scorpion and spider repellent helped a little, at least, but there was no such protection against snakes -- one of which had made its way into their tent two mornings previous. Ianto had woken, unexpectedly and abruptly, to find Jack curled around him, as natural and warm as if they'd spent the night in each others' arms. It wasn't until he started to look over his shoulder at Jack that he'd heard the warning hiss from Jack. Then movement caught his eye, and he saw the snake at the foot of their makeshift bed -- an air mattress covered with unzipped sleeping bags -- and froze. Jack hadn't been holding him for pleasure; he was reaching around Ianto to get at the pistol tucked under the mattress. He'd managed to draw and fire in one swift motion, and the snake's head had exploded, making Ianto yelp.

They'd emerged from the tent to find that their guide had up and disappeared. Jack wasn't wholly surprised -- he suspected the man of something all along, and at least their transportation, an old truck rigged with solar panels for power, was still intact, as were their supplies. They had satnav and they could track the artefact on Ianto's PDA, so they weren't completely crippled.

Today, however, Ianto had decided he was more than ready to be done with Australia. It probably had something to do with waking up in the shallow cave where he and Jack had sheltered for the night to find that a group of treasure-hunters were camped right outside.

"I had a feeling," Jack said, for the twentieth time, and Ianto sighed.

"It must be van Statten's gang." Ianto remembered Pete saying something as they were leaving, that they might end up in competition with an American who passed himself off as an "antiquities collector". Their guide had been leading them in a circle, well wide of the place where the artefact had landed, the first reason Jack had suspected the native was in van Statten's pay.

"I'm sure of it," Jack said. "He's the same on my world, you know. Insane for anything alien, and his collection is ridiculous. He had people all over the world trying to get to things before Torchwood did."

"Same here, I suppose," Ianto sighed. He glanced outside, where he could just see the men moving around. They had been lucky so far; the cave entrance was partially blocked by a rockfall, and either the men were stupid or overconfident enough that they hadn't bothered to see if anything might be living inside. But there was no way Jack and Ianto would be able to get out without being seen; they'd already tried and nearly been spotted.

"One of us will have to distract them," he said again. Once again, Jack shook his head.

"I'm not letting you go out there," Jack repeated. "It's too dangerous."

"Just as dangerous for you," Ianto shot back. Jack had no comeback for that, and Ianto turned to peer out the cave opening again. "They're all in one spot right now," he said. "Around the fire. I'll get on the far side of them, and then you can come out and we'll pin them between us."

"They're not going to let you do that, you know," Jack said.

"If I tell them I'm abandoning Torchwood and I want to throw in with them, they will." Ianto felt himself smile as Jack's eyes widened. "Believe me, I'll keep them off guard. And when I say, uh, when I say I'm done with Torchwood, that'll be your signal to come out."

Jack nodded mutely. His arms were folded -- he clearly didn't like it -- but after a moment, he wiped his face. "All right. What about your weapon? They'll take it off you if you've got it with you."

"And I'll want something..." Ianto hesitated, biting his lip, then looked up at Jack again. "I could stash the other revolver in the back of my trousers, keep it hidden so they don't know I've got it." He began to untuck his shirt, letting it hang loose around his hips.

Slowly, Jack nodded and then took his revolver out of its holster, offering it to Ianto. "It's got a full clip," he said, "so be careful. Don't need you blowing your arse off."

Ianto had to struggle not to laugh at that, both from nerves and at the image, as he checked the safety and then carefully set the revolver at the small of his back. Looking up at Jack again, he swallowed. "And you'll get one from them when I have them distracted, right?"

Jack nodded again. "Be careful, Ianto," he said. There was a strange look of concern -- no, not concern, outright fear -- in his eyes, and Ianto gave him a confident smile.

"Of course I will," he said. "I'll see you in a few minutes."

* * *

Crouching behind one of the boulders, Jack watched Ianto stride out into the middle of the little campsite. If he was at all scared, he didn't show it; he walked with his hands held up, but his back was straight and his head held high as the group of men yelped in startlement. That made Jack cover his mouth so his laughter wouldn't reveal him. It really was almost comical the way they hadn't noticed him until he was practically under their noses.

From this distance, Jack could hear the conversation clearly. Ianto backed up as several guns were raised to bear on him (five, Jack counted, noting who seemed the steadiest; that would be the one he disarmed). Expertly, Ianto placed himself on the far side of the camp from the cave, babbling all the while about how he'd been abandoned during the night, his partner had run off and taken their transport with him. Van Statten's men, apparently too dense to have searched the area and discovered the Jeep around the side of some boulders, bought it all, hook, line and sinker.

"Maybe we should just take care of you now," one of the men sneered in a flat American accent as another searched him, produced the gun from the holster on Ianto's hip and tossed it aside. "Finish the job your partner started."

"No," Ianto said, panic showing on his face. "Please, no, take me with you. I -- I don't want to work for Torchwood anymore, I want to go with you."

They clearly hadn't been expecting that; a couple of them began to lower their weapons, murmuring to each other in surprise. The leader kept his gun raised, though, pointed at Ianto's chest. "Bullshit," he snarled. "You're so far up Pete Tyler's ass you can practically see daylight. Everyone knows it."

"It's true," Ianto gulped. Jack could see him shaking a little. "It's not the same anymore, ever -- ever since Harkness showed up." He took a step backward, then another, slowly drawing the little group further from the cave entrance. "Everyone loves him, they all trust him and there's no reason. He's taken over, he tried to get me taken off this job so that he could get all the glory himself. I don't trust him and he knows I'm on to him, that's why he left me out here alone."

Jack blinked, as startled as the men at Ianto's blurted words. Ianto had overheard his argument with Pete? Was the rest of it true, too? After everything, Ianto still didn't trust him?

He was so stunned by it that he nearly missed the rest of Ianto's speech. "So I'm -- I'm done," Ianto was babbling. "I'm on your side now, I've had it with Torchwood."

That was his cue, and be damned if he'd miss it. Putting on his biggest, falsest grin, he strode out of the cave, pitching his voice loud. "Hello, boys!"

It really was beautiful, they way they all turned to gawk at him at once. In a moment, Ianto had whipped the revolver out from his waistband and was holding it up, bracing it with his other hand. "Don't fucking move," he snarled, as hands slowly went up. Jack cheerfully availed himself of the closest man's gun, then began relieving the others of their weapons as well.

"You're not too bright, boys," Jack informed them, his smile starting to feel more natural. "Didn't even bother to give a man like him more than a cursory patdown? Let him talk on and on like that? Because believe me, if there's one thing I've learned, it's how good Mr Jones is with words." He gave Ianto a wink, then, and together they forced the men into a circle at the center of the campsite.

"Fuck you," the leader spat.

Jack shook his head and grinned. "Sorry, you're not my type. Ianto, we have anything to tie them up with?" He was going around for a more thorough inspection now, removing knives and smaller pistols as he went. His gun still trained on them, Ianto came up with a roll of duct tape, and together they made short work of getting them all taped together, hands and ankles bound and then all five of them in a huddle.

"See, we don't want to kill you," Jack added. "We don't even want to hurt you. You probably won't believe this is for your own safety, but trust me when I tell you it is."

Cleanup was quick; Ianto shot out the tires of the truck van Statten's men had used, while Jack took all their weapons and dumped them into a spare knapsack, which he buckled and then tossed back into the cave, as deep as he dared go. "You'll be able to get out of this if you work together," he told them. "Just don't keep going after the artefact. You'll be safer that way."

"You think they'll listen?" Ianto said, when they were back in their own truck and on the move again.

Jack shrugged. "Doubt it," he said. "But it was worth the effort."

* * *

They drove a couple of hours in relative silence, Ianto using the satnav to find a reasonable path for the truck so they wouldn't be jounced all over the place, before Jack suggested they stop and have some kind of breakfast. Ianto agreed, and they pulled up by an outcropping of rock with a little stream running by. It wasn't much, but they could at least wash their faces and put together a fire for some quick coffee and oatmeal.

"Did you mean what you said?" Jack asked, out of nowhere. Ianto blinked across the fire at him.

"What? When?" Ianto said. He was already mentally rewinding all the things he'd ever said to Jack, a little scared.

"This morning, to van Statten's men. You said you didn't trust me because of how everyone fawned over me." Jack's voice was a little acerbic; he stared out at some point on the horizon, past Ianto.

Ianto swallowed. "I did at first," he admitted. "When we first found you. It was difficult to. For me to accept you, because everyone else was so welcoming. It made me distrust you." He could feel Jack watching him now, but he looked down into his coffee rather than meet Jack's eyes. "And I think you knew it, too. When I went after you in Guernsey, for example."

Jack nodded after a moment. "Yeah," he said. "I remember."

"But it's changed since then," Ianto went on, careful, choosing his words. "You haven't run away. You've showed you want to stick around. You -- you organised the stag do," he said, and felt himself colour at the memory of that night, Jack's warm mouth, his kiss. "I know you're trustworthy now. Even if -- even if we don't like each other, I know I can count on you."

Jack's eyes flickered, but he nodded, the corners of his mouth turning up with an effort. "And the same here. You were smart not to trust me, you know. It says a lot about you, that you don't just go by instinct. You think about things, you make an informed decision." He was silent for a moment before he added, "It means more to me that you trust me now, after all this time."

Ianto couldn't say anything to that, so he stood and finished his coffee. "Let's get going," he said.

Jack nodded, quietly getting to his feet as well.

"I have something I should tell you," Jack said, once they were back in the truck and moving again. Ianto had taken the wheel this time, and he glanced over at Jack, who was fiddling with the PDA.

"You don't have to," Ianto offered. "If you don't feel like it."

"No, I need to." Jack's voice was rough. "It's about why I'm here, and why I -- well." His throat worked a moment; then he stared out at the surrounding terrain as he spoke. "You should know."

"All right," Ianto said cautiously.

"On -- on the world I came from," he said, "I was in charge of Torchwood Three in Cardiff. You know that. I worked there for -- for a long time." He'd cut himself off there, Ianto noted, but he didn't comment, wanting Jack to continue. "When I took over, the rest of the team had been killed. I put together a new team once I'd buried the dead. Suzie Costello--" This time Ianto did a double-take as he recognised the name, and Jack chuckled dryly. "Yes, that one. She was my second in command, a good field agent. Toshiko Sato, I basically stole her from UNIT. Owen Harper was our medic, and then after a while I had two more additions to the team that I didn't recruit. One was Gwen Cooper." Jack went silent for a moment; Ianto could guess that this Gwen had some special significance to him. "The other," he went on, "was Ianto Jones. He'd worked at Torchwood London, and after the Battle of Canary Wharf, he came to Cardiff to seek employment."

"Me," Ianto said faintly.

"Not you," Jack replied, his voice stern. "Just like you. A doppelganger, practically. You're so similar to him. You have the same background, the same family. Only because this dimension is slightly different from that one..." Jack trailed off.

Ianto had a sudden horrible feeling that he didn't want to articulate. He gripped the steering wheel, focusing on the dirt track ahead of him.

"So he was like me," he said finally, more to prompt Jack than anything.

"Yeah," Jack said. "Sharp suits, really dry sense of humour, kept on top of everything. Practically ran the place. He loved his coffee, though." When Ianto glanced over this time, he saw that Jack was smiling. It was a distant, warm expression that reminded him sharply of the way Rose and Thomas had smiled at each other at their wedding.

He swallowed. "Unlike me," he said.

Jack chuckled. "Yeah, unlike you. Anyway, Tosh and Owen died saving the world, and it was down to just him and Gwen and I. And I. I loved both of them, but Gwen was married -- this great guy, Rhys, you'd get on amazingly with him -- and Ianto... Well. I was stupid enough that I never said anything." He went quiet again, a longer pause this time. Ianto kept his gaze fixed on the road ahead while Jack composed himself.

"What happened to him?" Ianto asked finally, softly.

"He died," Jack said. Flat-voiced now, he recited a tale Ianto could barely believe: aliens coercing the government of the Earth to give ten percent of its children as a tribute -- a _gift_ \-- or face extinction of the entire race. He told how he'd been involved in 1965, against his will, and how the remnants of his team had been hunted down to keep them from interfering in the devil's bargain.

"He faced them down with me," he said. "Even though it was a hopeless gesture. He wanted to stand there, by my side, and I couldn't tell him no. They killed everyone in Thames House to prove that they'd do what they said."

Ianto glanced at Jack. His eyes were dry, but the corners of his mouth had dragged in grief, his face gone pale. "I'm sorry," he said.

"That's not the worst part," Jack said. "We needed a transmitter to turn their signal back on themselves. A child. The only one we had was... I had to--" He stopped altogether, and this time Ianto stayed quiet, too. He reached over and clasped Jack's forearm.

"I'm sorry," Jack said, after a few minutes' silence. "I still can't talk about it."

"It's all right," Ianto replied. He gave Jack's arm a squeeze and then let go. Killing one child to save the rest of the planet: the numbers argued that it was a worthy thing to do, but what a hellish price to pay.

"So you see why I had a hard time being around you for so long," Jack said, when he had recovered his voice. "He was so important to me. We... we were lovers," he added, as if it hadn't been apparent from the tremor in his tone. "And even through everything we dealt with, he was there, just. He was there. And then he was gone."

Ianto nodded, feeling a bit overwhelmed by Jack's tale. It was true, he had no doubt; but he felt disconcerted, to say the least, by the idea that his doppelganger had been Jack's lover in another dimension. That was something else he shared with the other-world version of himself, he thought with dry amusement: they were both attracted to Jack Harkness.

"Coming here," Jack went on, "it was an accident, more or less. I was hoping to fix the things I fucked up. But it's been almost like a second chance." He was the one to glance at Ianto, and now he was smiling a little. "I'm glad I've gotten to know you for who you are, Ianto. I'm not looking at you and seeing him anymore."

"I think I'm glad too," Ianto said, wryly, and Jack chuckled.

* * *

Late that afternoon, Jack jerked up with a yelp. The PDA was pinging loudly, and he fumbled to shut it off. "What is it? Where are we?"

"I think we're here," Ianto replied, pretending not to notice Jack's bedhead. He'd seen in the past few nights that the man didn't sleep much, but he'd drifted off -- understandably, given the unchanging view around them. He smiled as he stopped the truck and cut the engine. "Do you see anything?"

Setting the PDA aside, Jack hopped out of the truck. Ianto followed, squinting against the brightness of the sinking sun. They were facing nearly due west, but even with that, the light was terribly bright. Blinking, Ianto shaded his eyes. Against the ground was another source of light, this one a darker hue than that of the red setting sun.

"There," he said, and pointed.

They approached slowly, mindful of the reports that had described some sort of reality-warping effect. Though they'd driven through a landscape dense with low trees and scrubby bushes dotting the ground, there was very little vegetation where they had stopped. Ianto absently wondered if the impact had burned away the grass; certainly there seemed to be a concentric circle of bare dirt wide around the object, which they saw more clearly as they circled toward the center.

A good twenty yards out from it, Jack stopped abruptly and held his hand out, stopping Ianto in his tracks. "This looks bad," he said. Ianto slowly nodded, taking in what Jack had already seen. The object itself looked like nothing special, small and ceramic, an hourglass shape glinting a little in the late sunlight. The mauve light coming from it flashed at the top, a signal -- or a warning.

Around the impact site lay several skeletons. While Ianto had no experience in forensics or identification of remains, he could tell there was something strange about it. It took Jack pointing out the dingo corpse for him to place exactly what was so strange. That one was still drying, but it hadn't completely fallen apart yet: despite the obvious aging of the body, they could see fresh tracks leading right up to where it lay.

"What the fuck," Ianto breathed faintly.

"It's warping time," Jack said. He sounded amazed. "That's it, of course. Look at that. It's accelerating time everywhere around it, must be a ten foot radius at least. Perfect defense mechanism! You try to go in and collect it, you're past your expiration date before you ever get close enough to touch it."

Ianto took an involuntary step back, feeling his stomach roll unpleasantly. "That's not good," he said.

"No kidding," Jack muttered. "Let's make sure of the radius before we report in, right?"

* * *

While Jack scrounged around for a couple of long branches -- they'd decided that organic matter, preferably as close to fresh as possible, would be best -- Ianto jogged back to the truck. They had a satphone for calling back to Pete, who wanted daily check-ins as well as news on anything out of the ordinary. By the time he'd dialed in to report that they'd located the artefact, Jack was coming back up with a couple of long, knobbly branches he'd found on the ground by a tree: they'd been broken by an animal, probably, sap still oozing from them; so Ianto nodded as Jack went off to test them.

He watched, giving Pete a running commentary, as Jack carefully approached the object. He passed the perimeter of grass to bare ground first, each step slow, one branch held out before him like a spear. It was just far enough that Ianto couldn't quite see what was happening, but he saw when Jack stopped abruptly and dropped the branch, backing away in a hurry.

"What do you want us to do?" he asked, watching Jack's activities. After a moment, Jack slowly approached the place he'd observed as the outer edge -- Ianto guessed it to be about twelve feet out from the artefact -- and laid the second branch down by the first.

"Let me coordinate things on my end," Pete said. "I have to get a squad together."

"What?" Ianto blinked. "I'm not sure brute force is a good idea--"

"Just hold tight there. I'll contact you when we're ready to send them over. Call me back if anything changes." The connection cut off before Ianto could respond. Disgusted, Ianto dropped the phone to the driver's seat and turned to look at Jack as he came jogging up.

"Come here," he said, and without waiting, he grabbed Ianto's wrist to drag him back.

"Coming," Ianto replied, stumbling to keep up with him. "What's going on, Jack?"

Jack stopped a few feet away from the branches he'd laid down, nodding to them. "That's what's going on," he said. "The one on the right, that's the first one I put down. Say about twelve feet out from the object, yeah?"

"Sounds about right," Ianto said, nodding. The second branch was laid to the left of the first, but its tip was further back from the object. The time-warping effect had already gone to work on the first branch; a good six inches of it had gone dry and the leaves still attached were dark brown, crumpling and falling apart before his eyes.

When he looked at the second branch, he yelped and stepped backward almost without conscious thought. The tip of it was turning brown and dry even as he watched.

"It's _growing_ ," he gasped.

Jack nodded. His eyes were wide and he raked a nervous hand through his hair. "That's a pretty healthy rate of growth, too. If it stays steady, or if it speeds up at all--"

"We're fucked," Ianto concluded. "We're all fucked. It's just going to keep growing, without any way to disable it."

Jack inhaled and nodded again. He glanced at Ianto, then dropped a hand to the gun at his hip. "Could be a good shot will take it out," he suggested.

Though Ianto was already thinking he needed to tell Pete about the growth rate of the time-warp bubble, he nodded. "Worth a try," he said.

In a moment, Jack drew and fired, as swift as a gunman in an old-time Western. Ianto turned toward the artefact just in time to see the shot ricocheting off as if the thing was made of solid metal. Ianto shouted, ducked instinctively, though the bullet whined away in another direction. Still shaking a little, Ianto turned to look at Jack. "You all right?" he asked.

Jack nodded; he'd ducked too, and he slowly stood, eyeing the branches. Apparently his shot had done nothing at all to affect the rate of the field's growth. "I'm a bit disappointed," he said, trying to smile. "That was a hell of a shot."

"Waste of a bullet," Ianto agreed. "All in favour of stepping back about a hundred feet?"

Jack gave a shaky laugh, and together they retreated to the truck.

* * *

"There's got to be something we can do," Ianto said, going around to the back and untying the flap. "We brought all this damn equipment, you'd think there'd be something in here we could use."

"Most of it's for close range, though." Jack stood behind Ianto, trying not to notice the sweat making the hair at his nape curl and stick to his skin. "We don't usually run into things that have to be dealt with from meters away."

Ianto grunted in agreement. He reached for a couple of containment units and set them aside, then climbed in, shifting boxes aside as he went. Suddenly, he made a sound of discovery and disappeared behind the sleeping bags, which they'd tossed haphazardly into the back that morning.

"What is it?" Jack asked, worried, ready to reach in and pull Ianto back if he had to.

"This just might do the trick." Ianto reappeared, grinning and pushing another containment unit back toward Jack. Once Jack had it, Ianto scooted himself out of the truck again. "It's a cold storage unit. Not just for keeping your sandwiches cool, though. You put anything into it, it immediately goes into complete stasis."

"Keep your sandwiches for a century, then," Jack said, with a slow smile. Then he glanced toward the front of the truck with a frown. "Is that the satphone?"

Ianto cursed under his breath and jogged around to the front of the truck. He looked upset as he answered; bringing the stasis unit over, Jack saw that Ianto was glowering.

"No, sir, don't--" Ianto was shaking his head, to no apparent avail. "No! Don't send them. The bubble is expanding. Sir, a bullet bounced off it and didn't even scratch it. What if that just sped up the-- Look, I think we've got this figured out." A pause, and then Ianto snorted. "At least give me a _chance_. I'll call back if it doesn't work."

Grimly, Ianto stabbed the button to disconnect the line and tossed the satphone back into the truck. "Now he knows what it's like to be the one hung up on," he muttered. "He wants to send a team in with a bomb, basically."

Jack felt the color drain from his face. "That has to be the worst idea I've ever heard."

"Tell me about it." Ianto leaned against the side of the truck, sighing. "He's going on the data they're getting, which is all well and good, but they're not seeing what we are. I--" He cut himself off, rubbing his face with his hands and straightening. "Let's figure out what to do with this. We've got rope, yeah?"

Jack nodded, feeling better with the prospect of taking action to solve the crisis. He'd always functioned best in emergency situations; everything felt sharper, clearer. "There's some in the back. What are you thinking?"

"Well, we can't rig up a pulley. There aren't any trees close enough." Ianto went to fetch the rope, uncoiling it as he came back. He eyed the artefact, which was still blinking that serene mauve light at them. "The rate of expansion... that's been fairly steady, right? If we know where the edges of the bubble are right now, we could maybe tie an end of the rope to the lid of the stasis unit and sort of drag it across to cover the artefact."

"And count on the stasis effect to kill the bubble, right?" Jack nodded, a picture forming in his head. "Go in from the side and curve around, I see what you're saying. I think it'll work."

"With any luck, the rope will stay in one piece until the artefact's covered," Ianto said, nodding. "All right, let's give this a try. If it doesn't work..." He went still, looking off into the distance, and Jack reached over to squeeze Ianto's shoulder. Ianto blinked at him.

"It'll work," Jack said in his most reassuring tone. "It will. But if it doesn't, we'll figure something else out."

"I hope you're right," Ianto said, and lifted up the stasis box.

They could see by the deterioration of the branches that the bubble had expanded another foot or so during their deliberation. That was good, Jack thought; it was still maintaining a slow rate, giving them time to make their move. He carefully set the stasis unit down on its side, the hinged lid open, resembling a primitive box trap.

"Go out to the right about twenty feet before you start angling around," Ianto said. Jack was about to tell him that he knew what he was doing, but he bit back the response. It couldn't have been easy to be the one watching. He only nodded and started jogging off at an angle to the object.

For the first minute or so, he thought it would work. As he drew around to the far edge of the bubble -- he'd marked out the edge using a couple more branches so that he knew how close he could safely get -- the rope drew taut, a straight line across the invisible sphere within which time had sped up. He began to carefully haul the stasis unit toward himself; it bumped easily along the dusty ground, tipping to one side and then the other but showing no signs of damage. But even as he pulled it closer to the artefact, he saw the thick braid of rope begin to fray right over the blinking light.

Frantic, Jack pulled faster. It was no good. A foot away from the artefact, the rope broke completely, withering to fine strands on either side of the break, and the stasis unit skipped and fell on its side.

"Fuck," he swore. He could see Ianto's disappointed expression as he hurried back around the perimeter of the bubble to rejoin him.

"It's so close," Ianto muttered. "If only I had a ten-foot pole or something."

"More like thirty," Jack agreed, sighing. A long metal pole would be ideal; metal would deteriorate, too, but not nearly as rapidly as organic material. The stasis unit, made of some kind of dense ceramic, seemed whole.

There was nothing else for it; he could see that now. He'd have to do it himself.

* * *

"I'm going to go in," Jack said.

It took half a second for Ianto to realise what Jack was implying, and he turned to face Jack, open-mouthed.

"You can't! You've seen what happens, how fast it works. It'll kill you!"

Jack's eyes were remote, calculating, surveying the distance to the perimeter, to the artefact itself. "I can do this," he said. "I think I can manage in five seconds. If I can get the stasis unit down over it, it'll shut down before it damages me."

"Jack," Ianto rasped. "No. We'll figure something else out, you can't risk--"

"I have to. There's no other way, Ianto, don't you see? The bubble's expanding, we have to stop it before Pete sends his team out here or van Statten's men show up." Jack turned now, the look on his face as if he'd just seen Ianto for the first time, and he clasped Ianto's shoulders in his hands. "We're out of options," he said, and tried to smile. "It'll be all right. Maybe I'll get a few gray hairs. It'll be striking."

"No," Ianto said again, weaker this time. "I can't let you do this."

Jack's eyes were serious, now, and his hands squeezed Ianto's shoulders. "There's no time," he said. "I'm asking you to trust me, Ianto. I can do this, and I _will_ be OK. I promise. Please believe me."

Ianto knew just how mesmerising Jack could be when he gave it his all; even so, he swallowed hard, lost for a moment in the blue eyes so close to his. Finally, he managed a clipped nod. "Don't. Don't die, all right?" he managed. "Rose will fucking kill me if you do."

That made Jack laugh, and he let go of Ianto's shoulders, turning to face the artefact again. They could both see that the original branches Jack had used to test the perimeter had been completely engulfed by now. Jack bent into a running stance, taking a deep breath to prepare himself. Then, glancing at Ianto again, he suddenly grinned, straightened, and grabbed his shoulders, dragging him close.

Ianto blinked, stunned, into the heated, hungry kiss. Jack's tongue swept his mouth, and he moaned despite himself at the strength of the sensation, of the kiss he'd been longing, dying to feel again. As abruptly as he'd grabbed him, Jack let go again, giving him a wolfish grin.

"That was _not_ a goodbye kiss," he said, and sprinted toward the artefact while Ianto was still staring at him.

Shaking, Ianto wrapped his arms around himself to watch, feeling utterly helpless and now even more frightened for Jack. It was clear the moment Jack hit the bubble; he slowed almost comically, as if he waded through water or thick liquid rather than air. But he could see the time-warp effect was taking its toll on Jack, too, slumping his shoulders and slowing his movements, and his heart came up into his throat when he finally saw Jack's hands close on the stasis unit. Somehow, with a supreme effort, Jack scooped up the artefact and got it into the unit, the lid falling closed on it.

"Thank God," Ianto breathed, but then Jack collapsed and he couldn't stop himself shouting. Heart racing, he took a few steps toward him before remembering that the bubble might still be active.

Finding another broken branch seemed to take forever, but within a minute or so Ianto had returned to the place he'd been standing before ( _where Jack had kissed him_ ). Holding the branch out before him like a weapon, he began moving forward. His palms were cold; he trembled, and the tip of the branch danced before him, but he forced himself to move slowly. The worst thing he could do was panic right now, even if Jack was dead.

At first, the very tip of the branch crumbled to ash, but as he pressed forward, he saw that the rest of it was unaffected. He continued to move, a slow, cautious step at a time, closing in on Jack and the stasis unit. It seemed an age had gone by when he finally stepped on the spot where the artefact had landed, but he was convinced that the stasis unit had shut it down -- he'd felt none of the time-warp effect, and his branch was still whole, the leaves on it green. Swallowing, he dropped it to the side and knelt by Jack, who'd crumpled on his side.

"Jack," he whispered, and couldn't help but reach to tug him into his lap. He'd sacrificed himself to stop the artefact. The bravest, stupidest thing to do, and Jack had done it without thinking twice. Who knew what might have happened if the time-warp bubble had kept expanding? He found himself running his hand over Jack's hair, looking down at the still face. Jack's colour was still so vivid, almost as if at any moment he'd start breathing again.

And then he did.

Ianto screamed when Jack gasped in all at once, reanimating like something out of a film. He would have backed off, dropped him, but Jack was suddenly clinging to him, a hand on one of his arms, the other reaching across to hold on to his shoulder.

"Did we do it?" Jack gasped. "Is it stopped?"

Dumbfounded, Ianto actually nodded before his bewilderment took over. "Y-you were dead," he said. "You were dead, I saw it, you were _dead_."

"I know," Jack said, groaning and pushing himself to sit up. Ianto scooted backward, on his feet in one motion, watching him with wide eyes. "It's a long story," he said. "Let's get this in the truck and tell Pete to call off the troops first?"

Wary and shaking a little, Ianto nodded.

* * *

Pete wasn't happy about having been hung up on earlier, but at least he seemed pleased that they'd contained the artefact -- and that they'd saved him the expense of teleporting out a dozen UNIT soldiers with whatever equipment they'd wanted to use to detonate it. He told Ianto to head back to Sydney and take the night to rest, and that they'd have transportation -- the normal kind -- arranged to bring everything back to London in the morning.

Hanging up the satphone, Ianto turned to watch as Jack finished stowing the stasis unit. They'd made sure it was latched securely; for extra measure, they'd bound it with some leather straps and a bit of the leftover rope. "Don't want this thing bouncing free and getting loose again," Jack said wryly. Ianto'd only nodded; he didn't care to repeat the experience in any way, shape or form.

Back in the cab of the truck, Ianto plotted their course with the satnav. Though they were essentially in the middle of nowhere, it wouldn't take them long to reach an unsealed road that was used by one of the mail trucks. It might take driving through the night, but they could get to Sydney in five hours.

"Then let's do it," Jack said, shifting the truck into gear. "I don't know about you, but I'm dying to sleep in a real bed."

Ianto groaned, letting his head drop back. "A shower," he said. "And food that isn't cooked over a fire."

"Hey!" Jack objected, chuckling. "I thought my campfire cooking was pretty good."

"It was," Ianto agreed. "Doesn't mean I'm not craving some variety. A steak cooked on a grill, maybe a jacket potato and some fresh veg..." His stomach rumbled, and he gave an embarrassed smile.

"Sounds like heaven, if you add a cold beer to that," Jack said. Ianto couldn't help the moan as he imagined it. Tipping his head to the side, he watched Jack, who appeared none the worse for wear for having died and come back to life an hour ago. If anything, he seemed revitalized.

"So you said there was a story," Ianto said.

Jack nodded, his throat working. "So there is." He was quiet for a moment, and then he gave Ianto a brief smile. "The short version is that I can't die. Something happened to me a long time ago, and ever since then... well, I do die, as you saw. But I always come back."

"Was it the Doctor?" Ianto asked. Rose had often talked about her travels with him, and he thought he'd heard just about every story with Jack Harkness in it, up to and including the Daleks (horrifying creatures, they sounded like) and their control of the human race before they'd been defeated at a place called the Gamestation.

Jack glanced sharply at Ianto, but then he nodded. "Sort of," he said. "We were travelling together. Rose, the Doctor, and I. It... it was the end of the world, it seemed like, defending what was left of humanity from the Daleks on a stupid little satellite station. They killed me," he said flatly. "I remember thinking that I'd never wanted to be a hero in the first place, and then it was over. And then there was this golden light, and I was breathing again."

His hands tightened a little on the wheel as they met the road again, carefully turning and then accelerating once they'd leveled out on the smoother surface.

"I found out later, much later, that Rose somehow got into the TARDIS's heart and gained its power. She dissolved all the Daleks down to their component atoms, and then she brought me back to life. And when I went running back to join them, they were leaving without me." Jack seemed calm, but Ianto could hear the slightest tremor in his voice. Without thinking, he reached over and rested a hand on Jack's shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Well, to be fair, he was dying," Jack said. "Not much time to think about me, I guess. I didn't know this until later, either, but he reabsorbed the power from her because she couldn't handle it, what with being human and all."

"Pardon me," Ianto said, feeling a bit lost. "The Doctor died?"

That made Jack laugh, unexpectedly. "I keep forgetting you don't know this stuff," he said. "The Doctor's an alien, a Time Lord. He comes from a place called Gallifrey, and he can regenerate when he's close to death. So he'll have a different face, different personality, but it's still him."

Ianto nodded. It still didn't quite make sense, but he could ponder that later. "So you were left on this Gamestation, right?"

"Yeah. I tried teleporting--" He held up his wrist to show the leather strap containing what Ianto had assumed to be some kind of fancy PDA. "I thought I'd go back to Earth and wait for him. He always refueled in Cardiff, because of the Rift."

He knew that one. "The Rift in space and time, the one they closed in 1859."

Jack nodded sharply, smiling a little. "You have heard all the stories, haven't you? Yeah, it was closed, but it still gives off energy and sucks things through from other places, so it's perfect fuel for the TARDIS. And that was how I ended up working for Torchwood there. The teleporter burned out, I got stuck in 1869, and I had to wait for him to come back, so."

"And you've lived all that time," Ianto said quietly. It still seemed a bit surreal.

"It's not so bad," Jack said. "You get used to it. And hey, I've gotten to see all kinds of things I never would have if I'd just lived out my normal lifespan."

Ianto made a quiet sound of agreement. After a moment, he realised his hand was still on Jack's shoulder and let it drop.

"Tell me about the things you've seen," he said. Jack glanced at him and smiled.

"We had a pet pterodactyl," he began, and Ianto settled back to listen.

* * *

He fell asleep at some point on the drive back, because when he woke, the truck had stopped in front of a huge, expensive-looking hotel. "What time is it?" he mumbled, rubbing at his eyes.

"About six in the morning," Jack said. "Come on, sleepyhead. We get a whole day off. Pete can't get the transport arranged to leave until tomorrow."

"Still tired," Ianto said, but he managed to pry himself out of the truck. His neck was stiff from the position he'd slept in, and he massaged it as he followed Jack into the lobby.

Any other time, he would have appreciated the luxurious setting, the richly appointed rooms into which they were ushered, the concierge not seeming to notice or be bothered by their ragged, dirty appearance. Ianto heard Jack making some quiet requests, but his main priority was seeking out a bed. He headed for the closest door, saw that it opened into a private bedroom, and sank down on the soft duvet. He was so exhausted that he never felt Jack tugging his boots off and getting him under the covers.

* * *

It was a shame, really, that they didn't have the energy to properly explore Sydney. Jack would have liked it, but after the exhaustion of dying and reviving and then driving through the night to get back to civilization, he was ready to relax. He'd thought of waking Ianto to have him drive for a while, but when he'd looked over to see him sleeping so peacefully, he hadn't wanted to bother him.

For a change, he'd slept heavily through most of the day. Dying took a lot out of him, after all. He woke sometime in the afternoon, indulged in a lengthy shower, and then found the clothes that the concierge had brought and left in the main room of their suite. It felt amazing to wear something clean and new. Jack took the other pile of clothes into Ianto's room for when he woke up, intending to let him sleep as long as possible.

Instead, Ianto mumbled something and then sat up when Jack set the trousers and shirts down on the dresser. "Hey," Jack said. "Go back to sleep."

"What time is it?" Ianto asked.

"Around three. You don't have to get up if you don't want to, though." Jack smiled; Ianto's hair was tousled and he still blinked sleepily, his eyes heavy. He looked better than he had last night, though.

"So it all happened," Ianto said quietly. He pushed back to lean against the headboard. Swallowing, Jack nodded and then went to sit on the bed next to him.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

Ianto nodded briefly. "Weird dreams," he said. "I wasn't sure, they didn't seem right. But I remember it all. You died, you came back to life. Everything you told me about the Doctor."

"All true," Jack confirmed, watching Ianto with cautious eyes.

Ianto managed a little smile. "I'm fine," he said. "Really. I think I'm going to jump in the shower."

"Sounds like a plan." Jack stood to give him room. "There's clean clothes, I asked the concierge to get them for us. Should fit, but let me know if they don't. You want coffee or anything?"

"Tea, I think," Ianto said. "And then a huge dinner."

Jack grinned. "I think that can be arranged."

* * *

And so it was. By the time Ianto was out of the shower and dressed, Jack had called to get a recommendation for a good restaurant. The concierge suggested the hotel's restaurant, located on the top floor to take advantage of their scenic view of the harbor.

He and Ianto had indulged themselves with a rich dinner, enjoying some of the chef's best offerings and talking idly about the completion of the mission and how they'd deal with the paperwork. Ianto had already assured Jack that he wouldn't tell a soul about Jack's inability to stay dead, and Jack knew, with a new surety, that he didn't have to worry about Ianto going back on his word.

Back in their suite, Ianto stepped out of his shoes and glanced at Jack as he headed for the mini-fridge. "Another beer?" he asked.

Shrugging, Jack nodded. "Sure, why not. Not as if I'm driving tonight," he said, and settled down on the sofa as Ianto took two bottles out of the fridge.

"My thoughts exactly." Ianto brought the beers over, smiling as he handed one to Jack and then sat next to him. He gave a great sigh and stretched his legs out, feet on the coffee table.

Jack chuckled a little and held up his bottle to clink it against Ianto's. "To a job well done," he said. Smiling, Ianto met the gesture, then untwisted the bottlecap and took a drink in salute.

"It was pretty rough out there," he said. "But I'm proud of what we did. I'd, I'd partner up again with you anytime."

That made Jack smile softly, and he uncapped his own bottle to sip from it. "Me too," he murmured.

Ianto was quiet for a moment, contemplatively drinking, before he went on. "A lot has changed since the other morning," he said. "What I said then, to van Statten's men, I wouldn't say that now. Funny, isn't it?"

"You couldn't have known, though," Jack said. "And that was as much my fault for not wanting to talk to you. Though--" He couldn't help the slight bitterness in his laugh. "There's not really a good way to say, 'I can't decide if I'm avoiding you because of the ways you remind me of my dead lover, or because of the ways you don't.'"

"No, I guess not," Ianto agreed wryly, smiling. "But I'm glad you told me about it. That you trusted me enough to."

Jack smiled a little, too, his thumb rubbing the lip of his bottle. "I wanted to thank you, too. For being there when I woke up." He had to look down at the bottle rather than at Ianto. "That doesn't happen too often. It was nice."

He heard Ianto take in a little surprised breath. "That's a shame," he said quietly. "It was so strange, though. I really thought you were dead, I was so shocked."

His knee had fallen, whether by accident or through design, to press a little against Jack's. Jack glanced at it; unsurprisingly, even with that slight contact, he felt the sudden hit of arousal roll like warm syrup in his veins, even though he was still too tired -- and too full from his dinner and the drinks he'd had with it -- to really act on it.

"It's always a shock, coming back," he said. "Never easy. But it's preferable to the alternative, right?"

"I suppose," Ianto said, trying to sound cheerful. "I can't really imagine what it's like. It sounds like such a great idea at first, getting to live forever..." He sucked in a breath, let it out again. "But the more I think about it, the more I think it almost sounds like a punishment."

"There's times when it's great." Jack shook his head a little, feeling the need, even now, to put it all in perspective. "Days like yesterday, where I can use it to do something that another person wouldn't be able to come back from." He found himself shifting a little, his shoulder pressed to the back of the couch, so that he could look at Ianto as he went on. "But then on the other hand, I've outlived everyone I've ever loved, and that'll never change."

Ianto went perfectly still for a moment. Then, making a visible effort to breathe, he whispered, "God. I'm sorry." And without any inhibition or shyness, he scooted closer, wrapping his arms around Jack.

The beer bottle was cold against Jack's back, but he barely even noticed. He closed his eyes, one of his arms coming up automatically to curve around Ianto. It was so strange, he thought; in so many ways, this world's Ianto was so similar to the one he'd known and loved -- but now, it didn't bother him that they were so alike. He breathed in the warm scent of Ianto, the faint notes of soap and shampoo, the musk of him, and found himself swallowing hard to keep himself stable. When he pulled back, he rested his hand at the side of Ianto's neck and made himself smile.

"I'm not good for anything tonight," he said, "and I'll understand if you said no, but -- I'd like it a lot if you'd just sleep with me tonight. Nothing else, I don't think I could manage more, but. If you'd be willing to give me another chance--"

Ianto's laugh cut him off; he shook his head, smiling. "You're a nutter, you know. I've wanted you since I kissed you after the stag do. Of course I'd like that. I'd love that. Besides," he added with a chuckle, "it's not as if I'm capable of anything more than falling asleep on you tonight."

"That's all I want. Tonight, anyway." Jack's thumb brushed under the corner of Ianto's jaw, and, impulsively, he leaned in to kiss that soft smile. Ianto made a quiet sound; for a moment, there was nothing in the world but the kiss, Ianto's mouth warm and inviting, promising. Then Jack pulled back with a grin. "Tomorrow, though? All bets are off."

"I'm looking forward to it," Ianto said, even as he pushed to his feet and reached for Jack's hands.

* * *

They both slept heavily; at least, Jack knew he did, and Ianto moved very little once the two of them had curled up in the same bed, wordlessly gravitating to each other. When he woke to the telephone ringing a wake-up call, he found himself spooned up behind Ianto and didn't want to move, even to silence the phone. It was Ianto who groaned and reached sleepily over to the bedside table to drag the receiver off its hook.

"Too early," he mumbled, turning to bury his face in Jack's neck.

"Gotta go home," Jack whispered into the soft dark hair, smiling at Ianto's easy trust. "Come on, Mr Jones. Let's go catch a zeppelin."

* * *

Jack had travelled by zeppelin only a few times since arriving in this dimension. Generally, the experience had been typical of mass transport: uncomfortable and crowded, with the additional factor of slowness that made him impatient to get the trip over with. Stepping onboard the zeppelin bound for London, he whistled. "Now this is how to travel."

"No kidding," Ianto agreed, stepping up into the cabin behind him. The private zeppelin was luxuriously appointed, fitted with copper and brushed steel, the deep burgundy carpeting plush beneath their feet. "And it's all ours for the next six days."

"Well, if you don't count the crew," Jack said, feeling a certain amount of sympathy for the pilot who would be manning the controls for what he could only think of as an endurance flight. "The jets we use back home would have gotten us to London in thirty-six hours or so."

Ianto's eyebrows went up as the steward approached to welcome them aboard. A brief tour followed, in which Jack got to glimpse the pilots' cabin for a tantalising moment; they were led to a lounge and invited to watch there as the zeppelin debarked, and then the steward stepped out, closing the doors behind him.

Standing at the curving windows, Jack thought he could see all of Sydney, spread out bright and beautiful below them. Ianto stepped up next to him, and suddenly Jack was aware more of the heat and presence of the man standing beside him than the city at his feet.

"It's amazing," Ianto said quietly.

Jack nodded, absent, taking in the landscape below them as the zeppelin began to move. The engines whirred at a slightly higher pitch, but other than that, the craft was surprisingly quiet. If one didn't mind the gentle swaying -- which Jack didn't; he found himself used to it after only a few minutes -- it felt almost as if they were standing still, the world sliding away from them. He found himself thinking that this wasn't a bad way to travel, if one wasn't in a hurry. And for a change, he wasn't.

"Shall we go investigate the cabins?" he asked, glancing at Ianto, smiling slowly.

Ianto met the expression with a knowing smile of his own. "Let's," he said.

Their luggage had been stacked in one of the two private cabins, both of which were alike, boasting a huge bed and sharing one bathroom between the two. The crew had probably assumed they'd choose a room and split up, but Jack liked the notion that they'd been nudged into one room by fate.

Ianto was first into the room; Jack stepped in far enough to shut the door behind himself, and then he reached for Ianto's wrist, turning him around. Ianto still looked confused, but only for an instant. Then Jack had him pinned to the door with his own body, and when Ianto began to grin, Jack kissed him.

It was everything he'd wanted and ached for. If the kiss after Thomas's stag do had been hot, this one was searing; Ianto in full possession of his senses was even more potent, live and lithe against him, hands sliding into Jack's hair, down his back, grasping his arse. He gasped into Ianto's mouth, his own fingers slipping between them to start working the buttons of Ianto's shirt open.

"Bed," Ianto gasped, but Jack just grinned and slid to his knees, undoing Ianto's trousers as he went.

There was one advantage, he thought as he let his hands slip into the opening and tug out Ianto's cock, to this Ianto being so similar to the one he'd known. He knew exactly what to do to him, knew what would push his buttons. This was one of them: Jack loved giving blowjobs anyway, but Ianto always responded so beautifully to them. And this world's Ianto was no exception. His head fell back against the door when Jack took him in his mouth; his hands dragged in Jack's hair, flexing in an unconscious motion, and Jack felt a wave of satisfaction when Ianto came, panting and shuddering.

"That... that was embarrassing," Ianto mumbled, when Jack had kissed his way back up Ianto's bare chest to his mouth.

"What?" Jack grinned, licking at Ianto's lower lip, full from where he'd bitten it.

"Stamina of a teenager, with you." Ianto's fingers finished undoing Jack's shirt and pushed it from his arms. "Maybe I'll last a minute longer with you inside me."

Jack groaned, even as his fingers curled in Ianto's open shirt and he began to drag him back toward the bed. "Now that's just not nice."

Ianto's smile was sly. "Oh, I promise it'll be _very_ nice."

* * *

Late that evening -- or perhaps early that morning -- Ianto awoke. Disoriented, he sat up, blinking in the darkness. It took several seconds for him to recognise the shadowy lines of the state cabin they'd claimed on the zeppelin. The lights set into the floor had dimmed, so the only light came from the windows, moonlight strong and clear as he never saw it at home. More importantly, though, he was alone in bed. Jack's side was disturbed -- he hadn't simply disappeared, for which Ianto was absurdly grateful -- but the sheets were cool. Well, he'd said he didn't sleep much. And he couldn't have gone far.

Funny, he mused to himself as he stumbled into the loo, leaving the nightlight on while he pissed, how just a few days ago he was still fed up with Jack, could barely talk to him. Now, he didn't want to be out of arm's reach of the man. He smiled wryly, flushed the toilet and washed his hands, then went back to the bed to find his pyjama pants. No point flashing the crew, if they happened to be awake, while he sought Jack out.

A far-too-reasonable voice in his head pointed out that maybe Jack wanted to be alone just now. Well, Ianto wouldn't disturb him if he seemed to need the solitude. But Ianto didn't particularly want to be alone right now. He'd been on his own so long that he'd forgotten how much one could crave a simple human touch -- and Jack's touch was anything but simple.

Padding down the main corridor that ran the length of the vessel, he paused to glance into the other state cabin, which was as unoccupied as before. The dining room was similarly empty -- not that they'd made any use of it, having taken dinner back to bed and fed each other. _Ah_ , he sighed to himself as he came to the lounge door. Jack had taken the cushions off one of the sofas and dragged the blanket from it as well -- merely a decorative accessory, he had it draped over himself, but Ianto had no doubt that he was naked beneath it. His mouth suddenly went dry, the taste of Jack still clear and strong in his recent memory.

Though he hadn't spoken, Jack suddenly turned from where he sat, on the floor before the floor-to-ceiling windows, and smiled invitingly. Feeling his own lips curve up in response, Ianto stepped into the room.

He was settled, in moments, in the V of Jack's spread legs, with Jack's arms around him, the blanket enveloping both of them like wings. Ianto sighed to himself, feeling peaceful. Though Jack was, indeed, naked beneath the blanket, Ianto was so sated from their earlier play that he was content to snug his arse into the heat of Jack's groin and let things develop at a slower pace, if at all.

"Amazing view," Jack said after a while, more to break the silence than anything.

Smiling, Ianto nodded. They'd long ago left any sight of land behind, and below them, the moonlight painted the water in midnight-blue and silver. "You can really see the stars, too," he said. "Not like in London."

"Kind of like how it was in Australia, though," Jack pointed out. Ianto shivered a little; the memory of Jack's death -- and abrupt, confusing return to life -- still lingered a little too close for Ianto's liking.

Jack must have felt the shiver, because he wrapped his arms a little tighter around Ianto, pressed a kiss to his ear. "Tell me about yourself, Ianto. Tell me something about you I don't know."

That could fill a book, Ianto thought absently; but then again, maybe not. Jack seemed to know him quite well already, even if that knowledge extended more to things like how to make him scream in bed than to dry facts. "I like to cook," he said after a brief silence in which he contemplated what would be the easiest thing to talk about.

"Yeah? What's your favourite thing to make?"

Ianto smiled, thinking about Jack in his kitchen when he'd brought back groceries from Tesco. "I make a good white chicken chilli," he said. "I'll make it for work sometimes, bring in a huge batch."

"I can't wait to try it." Jack's mouth drifted at his earlobe; Ianto shivered. "Tell me something else."

"Uh," Ianto said, and Jack laughed. "I, I'm having a hard time focusing at the moment."

"Have you been in many relationships with men?" Jack asked. His hand flattened on Ianto's belly.

"A few," Ianto admitted. "The first was just for fun, experimenting, you know. Learning. The last..." He trailed off as Jack's fingers slid higher, finding his sensitive nipples, and he swallowed hard. His head tipped back on Jack's shoulder. "That one started well, ended badly. It was great until he found out where I worked."

Jack made a quiet noise. "I'm sorry," he said, his hand stilling.

"I'm not," Ianto said, and he smiled and twisted his head a little so that he could look at Jack. "If I was still with him, I wouldn't be here with you right now, and I'd much rather that alternative."

Jack's smile was so warm and sudden that it made Ianto's heart ache. The kiss was a little awkward, half over Ianto's shoulder, but they were both laughing a little at the end of it; then Jack tugged him down on the cushions, and Ianto went with him, both rearranging until they lay on their sides. Ianto pressed himself gladly into Jack's arms, the warmth surrounding him. Jack's mouth on his neck evoked little gasps -- it wasn't fair, really, the way Jack knew what Ianto liked best; when Jack's hand slid into his pyjamas, Ianto eagerly pushed them down and kicked them away. Bared to Jack, he could feel Jack's cock, hard and insistent, a solid hot line against his arse.

"Tell me you brought the lube with you," Jack said hotly in his ear. Ianto choked and laughed.

"I wasn't thinking that far ahead." He couldn't seem to stop himself from rubbing into the delightful heat of Jack's groin, cock as hard as marble between his cheeks. If he got just the right angle, he thought he could just tip his hips and get Jack into him; the very idea inflamed his senses and he moaned.

Jack stayed there for another moment and Ianto had the gleeful thought that he would, he would. But then he pushed up, biting Ianto's shoulder and growling, "I will be right back."

Shuddering, Ianto rolled to his back to watch Jack dart, pale and naked, from the lounge. He briefly pondered getting up and following him back; though they were the only passengers on the ship, there was a possibility that the steward or pilot might wander by and see them. Then he swallowed, because rather than making him feel shy, he found the image simply hot. Let them see Jack fucking him into oblivion.

Moments later, Jack was padding back into the room, and Ianto lifted the blanket for him again. Jack sucked in a breath and skidded down to slip under the blanket, nudging Ianto to lay on his side again. "Like this," he said, and Ianto nodded, his breath sticking in his throat.

He was still open and feeling loose from before, and when Jack's slick fingers pressed to his opening to investigate, they both moaned: Jack in surprise and arousal, Ianto with sensation and need. Jack pulled his hand back and there was the wet sound of his hand lubing up his cock. Then -- _thank God, finally_ , Ianto thought -- nothing but the delicious heat, the blunt round head pushing into him, popping past the rings of muscle and sliding smooth and deep. One long thrust buried Jack in Ianto; they both moaned.

Jack really did know how to touch him, and Ianto could only be grateful that he didn't use all that knowledge at once. A hand skimmed over his chest, teasing a stiff nipple then sliding down to ruffle the soft hair leading to his groin; it avoided his cock, though, and he thought briefly that it was torturous, then decided he was glad; he didn't want it to be over so soon. He'd thought himself sated after their last bout, but he couldn't seem to stop wanting Jack.

Hot breath in his ear made him gasp, and he strained back against Jack. "Please," he said, throaty, not knowing what he was asking for.

"Please what?" Jack repeated, his voice a rasp. "How do you want me, Ianto? Do you want me to fuck you fast and hard?" His hips briefly imitated his words, driving into Ianto to make him groan and cry out. "Or slow? Should I take my time, see how long we can both last?" As he spoke, his strokes eased, and Ianto let out a low groan of relief.

"Slow," he said, when he could speak again. "Want to... want to feel you like this for as long as fucking possible."

He felt Jack's smile against his nape. "Me, too," Jack said, softer now, and his hand rested on Ianto's hip as he settled into a steady rhythm. Ianto shifted just a little, getting more comfortable with a cushion under his head, his eyes drifting to the sight of the ocean far below them, moonlight limning the waves. Aside from their panting breaths and the little sounds they made together -- Ianto couldn't help a grunt of pleasure every time Jack buried himself in him -- everything was quiet, only the hum of the zeppelin's engines underlining the stillness.

It couldn't last forever; of course that was impossible, an irrational fantasy. Still, Ianto thought for a little while that he would have liked it. He'd never felt this close to anyone before. There was an easiness with Jack now, a warmth that didn't need words. He'd discovered that a smile and a touch worked as well, if not better, and it was startlingly pleasant to find his interest and desire matched in Jack. _So much time we wasted arguing_ , he thought briefly, and then thoughts fled when Jack began to speed his thrusts, driving in quicker and drawing back until he'd nearly slipped free of Ianto's body.

Now he was desperate for Jack's hand on him, and he reached for it, placing it on his cock in a silent plea. Jack laughed shakily against his nape. "So fucking hot when you do that," he muttered, but he obeyed, his fingers curling tight around Ianto's erection and sliding fast and hot.

Ianto closed his eyes now, his fingers digging into the cushion under him, letting all distractions slip away. His world narrowed to Jack, pushing into him, stroking him, rocking against him: Jack's chest solid and hard against his back, Jack's breath harsh in his ear, strong thighs bumping his, and above all, the sweetest friction of that heavy cock in him, finding the perfect angle that drove bliss rocketing through him until he came, shouting and gasping, arching back against Jack for long moments.

His hand came back to clasp Jack's hip, clutching desperately at him, and he felt Jack shudder through his own orgasm, moaning raspily, buried deep in Ianto's body. Shaking, Ianto held on to him.

"Don't move," he managed to whisper, when Jack finally sank back, and he felt the gratifying weight of Jack slumped on him. He felt oversensitive and full, but it was exactly what he needed.

"Jesus," Jack muttered, his breath stirring the damp hair at the back of Ianto's neck.

"I know," Ianto said. His heart was still racing, and he took deep breaths. He was content to lie there, Jack's arm around him and Jack's softening cock inside him. They'd have to get up soon; now that the thrill of the moment had passed, he didn't particularly want to be found like this. But they could take a few minutes to recover.

He could feel Jack smiling against his shoulder. "You're a dangerous man, Ianto Jones. I'm not going to want to leave this zeppelin."

"Have to eventually," Ianto said, smiling to himself.

"Nah." Jack slid away from him, drawing Ianto to lay on his back, and then he sprawled half over him. He was heavy, still slick with sweat, but Ianto didn't mind; he smoothed Jack's hair back with one hand, feeling dreamy and tired. "Let's just keep going. Head up to Greenland or something."

"Pete might be annoyed," Ianto pointed out. "You know, since we're supposed to be bringing the artefact back and all. Besides, Rose would just hunt us down and drag us back."

Jack made a contemplative grunt. "Suppose." He sighed, rested his chin on Ianto's collarbone; for a moment, his gaze was so distant that it chilled Ianto a little. Then he blanked it, smiled down at Ianto, and kissed him again. "Come on," he said, and pushed himself to his feet. "Let's get back to bed."

* * *

At some point after they'd returned to London, Ianto figured he'd have a chance to reflect on the complete reversal that had occurred in his relationship with Jack. After all, they had gone from barely tolerating each other (or so Ianto had thought, anyway) to a cautious friendship and trust to, well, intense carnal knowledge of each other in the space of a week -- and then they'd spent the subsequent week doing very little aside from fucking and sleeping. At one point, Ianto had darted out to the dining cabin, gathered up as much food as he could find, and brought it back to their room so that they could eat without bothering to get out of bed. That in itself had led to even more enjoyable activities.

But he'd thought, somehow, that it might end when they came home. The trip had had something of the aspect of an idyll, set apart from the world as they were on the zeppelin, and Ianto thought he'd be glad to have Jack as a friend, rather than an adversary, at the end of it. But they reported in to Pete with the artefact, who then told them to go home and get reacquainted with their beds -- and just outside the office, Jack grinned and said he'd like to help Ianto with that task.

Since then, Ianto had begun to realise just how little of a social life he'd actually had prior to... well, to whatever it was he and Jack were doing. Not dating, really; they went out for drinks, sometimes, with a group of Torchwood employees from all over the building, and sometimes they talked about catching a film. But most of the time, they simply ended up back at Ianto's flat, tearing each other's clothes off like randy teenagers who'd just discovered sex. Three weeks had gone by and Ianto couldn't think of a single place in his flat where they hadn't had sex. The shower, the kitchen counter -- and the floor -- and up against the fridge. The sofa, of course; it had been the first place they'd fucked, Ianto sinking down on Jack with a blissful moan, their shirts still on and Jack's cock just out of his trousers. The bed, naturally; against the wardrobe, too, and on the floor in front of the television. Every time Ianto thought about it, he shuddered. He'd never had so much sex in his life, and he thought he might be addicted to Jack.

When he started feeling sick to his stomach, he didn't think anything of it at first. They'd gone out drinking the night before with the usual group, so he put it off to a hangover as he emptied his stomach in the toilet. He felt better afterward, the headache dissipating in the shower, and he'd forgotten it entirely by the time he arrived at work. The second morning was milder -- Ianto kept last night's dinner down -- and he dismissed the whole thing as a twenty-four-hour stomach flu.

Three days in a row, though, and he was starting to wonder if he shouldn't stop in at the clinic on the Torchwood premises and have himself checked out. The third day was worse; he felt a little shaky when he was done vomiting, though once it was all over, he was ravenous and heated up a couple of bagels loaded down with cheese and bacon for breakfast.

He wasn't really surprised, that morning, to get a notification that he needed to check in with one of the on-site physicians. Torchwood had a sophisticated scanning system in place at all entrances; scavenged from alien technology, it was a valuable tool in making sure everyone who entered the building was healthy (something Pete was always concerned about, considering what they handled on a daily basis). The alert came in Ianto's e-mail; he idly noted his schedule and sent back a message that he'd stop by at lunch.

The rest of the day went quickly; Ianto stopped into the lab to deliver some supplies Thomas had ordered, sharing a private grin with Jack as he did so. They would go back to his tonight, he had no doubt, and he was already looking forward to it. "Come to my office when you're ready to go," Ianto murmured before he headed out, and he smiled all the way up to the admin floors.

His test results came back later that afternoon. Absorbed in what he was working on, Ianto didn't even notice the folder at first; he reached for it without realising what it was, and it wasn't until he'd taken the sheaf of papers out and started to scan them that he remembered having his blood drawn earlier that day.

Abruptly, a phrase jumped out at him. Ianto stared at it, feeling himself go cold.

"No," he muttered. "No, no way." But the words stayed where they were, black and white on the page, refusing to be denied.

He wasn't aware of how long he'd spent looking at the report; his only awareness was of the words swimming before his eyes, and then Jack's voice, amiable and animated, as he came into the office.

"Hey, you ready to get out of..." Jack began, and as Ianto looked at him, he trailed off. Ianto felt cold; he had to swallow. It suddenly hit him that he didn't have to tell Jack. But even as the thought arrived, he dismissed it as unfair. Jack deserved to know.

"Are you all right?" Jack asked, his brow furrowing with concern.

"Here," Ianto said, and handed the report to Jack. "You -- you should read this."

He watched, heart in his throat, as Jack began to scan down the first page, much as Ianto had himself when he'd opened it. Jack's mouth moved a little as he read; he glanced up suddenly, sharply, his eyes confused as he looked at Ianto, and then he went back to the page for another long moment.

Ianto had just about had enough of the drawn-out tension when Jack sat down very hard in the chair opposite his own and said, his voice dazed, "This. This report, this is for you?"

Swallowing, Ianto nodded. His hands folded together on the desk. "I'm pregnant," he said.

"But that--" Jack began, and then stopped short. He had that look on his face that often came when he was trying to rapidly calculate something, his mouth open and eyebrows narrowed. "That won't be possible for another two hundred years, at least... _oh_." Mouth closing with a snap, he looked at Ianto again. "Men can get pregnant here," he said, the words coming out a little dully.

"We can," Ianto said. He kept his eyes on Jack: it was about the only thing keeping him level at the moment. "It doesn't happen very often, and usually only between same-sex couples. But we can. It, it's happened in my family before, my great-grandfather." He could hear his voice shaking now, no matter how hard he tried to control it. "I thought you should know, since, you know, you're the father."

Jack still looked rather as if he'd been hit over the head with a frying pan; he got to his feet after a moment, rubbing a hand through his hair, and came to sit on the edge of the desk, next to where Ianto sat. "Are you all right?" he asked, gently. "How are you feeling?"

Ianto managed the ghost of a chuckle. "Fine, now," he said. "I mean, I've been sick the past few mornings, but I didn't think anything of it." He could feel the warmth slowly returning to him, more relieved than he cared to admit that Jack had taken the news so well, and he swallowed. "Thought it was just a bug or something."

"You still look pretty pale," Jack said. "Why don't you take the rest of the day off? Let me take you home, we can let you process it a bit more there."

"I -- yeah." It was hitting him all at once now. "Shit. I have to tell Pete. I have to." He heard himself laughing nervously. "That means Jackie and Rose will know. And everyone else."

"Ianto?" Jack said, watching him with worried eyes.

"I'm fine," Ianto said. "I'm fine!" He took a deep breath, or at least tried to, and rubbed his hands over his face. After a moment, he looked up at Jack again. "Maybe you're right. It's not like I'm going to be able to focus on anything else today, anyway."

"That's the spirit," Jack smiled, and stood back while Ianto gathered his things together and then phoned up to let Pete know he was leaving early. When he was done, he turned to see Jack holding his coat out for him, and he managed a weak smile as he let Jack slide it on.

The next moment, as if he'd known how close Ianto was to breaking, Jack slid his arms around Ianto and tugged him in. Ianto took a ragged breath and closed his eyes, letting his head rest on Jack's shoulder. "Thank you," he whispered.

"Anytime," Jack murmured, his hand smoothing the hair at the back of Ianto's head. "Anytime at all."

* * *

"So how do men give birth here?" Jack asked as he drove them back to Ianto's flat. "Does it happen often?"

"The birthrate is much higher for women than men," Ianto said, "but it's not exactly unknown, obviously. And we're not quite made for it, either."

Jack nodded; he was guessing that much, since he'd become intimately familiar with Ianto's body over the past few weeks and hadn't noticed any marked differences to his own anatomy. "How does it work?" he said, finding himself intensely curious.

"There's actually a fairly simple medical procedure," Ianto said. "Sort of like an incubation chamber. They remove the baby and put it in there for the last month of its development. It's basically a caesarean."

"Mm." Jack glanced at Ianto, his smile brief. "You can probably tell it doesn't happen where I'm from, at least in the time period I came from."

"I gathered." Ianto's voice was wry, but then he looked down at his lap, his hands folded together. "Erm, I wanted to. I wanted to tell you that I didn't do this on purpose, to... to ensnare you, or whatever. It wasn't intentional. Honestly, I wasn't even thinking about it, it's just been so long since I, since I, you know."

Jack had to stop him. He reached over and caught one of Ianto's hands in his, effectively cutting off the babbling comments. "I know you didn't," Jack said firmly. He gave the hand in his a little squeeze. "That never even crossed my mind."

* * *

Jack had turned quiet and reflective by the time they returned to the building. Ianto was half ready to tell him to go ahead and take off if he wanted to, but then Jack smiled at him as they reached the door of Ianto's flat.

"Go ahead and get comfortable on the sofa," Jack said. "Mindless television only, that's an order. I'll go get something warm on in the kitchen." And he did, refusing all of Ianto's requests to help. As Ianto settled down with his shoes off and an afghan over him, he couldn't help feeling a bit like he was an invalid to be taken care of. On the other hand... it was sort of nice having Jack there, being domestic in his kitchen.

Soon enough, Jack came out with two steaming mugs of tea; Ianto twitched the afghan aside to make room for him, sitting up a bit more so that he could sip the tea. "I just put some soup on," Jack said, with a bit of a wry smile. "Chicken noodle, I'm not really good at anything else."

"It sounds great." Ianto chuckled a little as he wrapped his hands around his mug. "Thank you."

"Do you, uh, do you want me around?" Jack asked. "I can go, you know."

"No, please. I--" Ianto swallowed. "I'd just be running myself around in circles if you weren't here."

"All right." Jack nodded, sitting back and sipping his own tea. He'd remembered that Ianto liked his with just a sugar, something Ianto found strangely charming. "So what happens next?"

It took Ianto a moment to re-orient himself before he realised Jack was asking about the baby. "Oh. Well, I have to get an appointment set up with a specialist who deals in male pregnancy. They gave me a list, though, it's not like I have to go hunting for one. And then I go from there, I suppose. Checkups however often they need me to have them, that kind of thing."

"OK. I'd like to go with you, if that's all right," Jack said.

Ianto found himself smiling into his mug. "Of course."

"I want to--" Jack started, and cut himself off. "Whatever you decide to do, Ianto, I want you to know I support you completely. I know you don't have to make a decision right away, but I want you to know that I'm here, no matter what."

His smile had begun to tremble a little, and Ianto watched him, eyebrows furrowing in concern. "Jack?" he said.

Jack swallowed, then smiled again, with a little more of an effort this time. "I've had children before," he said. "I helped -- there was this one time, before--." Another sudden stop, and Jack laughed, though it wasn't a particularly amused sound.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," Ianto said. "Or if you can't, for whatever reason."

"I know," Jack said; he leaned forward to set his mug down, then turned a bit more toward Ianto, reaching to get Ianto's feet on his lap. "See, I'm really terrible about talking about myself at all. I stopped doing it a long time ago, and it's pretty hard to get back into the habit. But I want to tell you, I want you to know."

"All right," Ianto said, feeling a little wary. He reached across the gap between them and grasped Jack's hand.

It seemed to help, somehow. Jack looked down at their hands and kept his eyes there as he began to talk again.

"I was born on a place called the Boeshane Peninsula in the fifty-first century," he said. Ianto felt himself jerk a little, but he made himself keep holding on to Jack's hand. "I went through a war before I was eighteen. My father and brother both died in it; my mother died of a broken heart. They say that, you know, and it doesn't sound true, but it was. Anyway, the Time Agency recruited me after that. I went to work for them."

"Time Agency," Ianto repeated. The words sounded vaguely familiar. He remembered Rose talking about how he'd thought she was a Time Agent when they first met.

"Right," Jack said. "They sort of regulate the timelines, make sure history happens the way it's supposed to. But things... things happened, and I separated from them. It wasn't long after that when I met Rose and the Doctor, and you know what happened after that."

Ianto nodded, squeezing Jack's hand. "So that's why you're so soaked in Artron radiation," he said. "Lots of time travel."

Jack swallowed and nodded. "Exactly, yeah. Anyway, at one point after I'd broken from the Agency, I carried a child for a couple, sort of a surrogate parenting thing. That was just a bit different from the way you do it; they put _me_ under, for the last two weeks, and when I woke up..." His free hand drifted to his belly. "Poof. No more baby. No emotional wear and tear, either."

Ianto wondered about that, because Jack had suddenly gone distant, but he wasn't going to question things right now. "You said 'children'," he said, to prompt Jack more than anything.

"Right," Jack said, and he met Ianto's eyes again, his own just a little bright. Ianto pretended not to notice. "I've been married -- at least according to Earth laws -- twice. The first time, we had no children... she was lovely, though." Ianto could see Jack was starting to feel a little maudlin and wondered if he should slip a little whiskey in Jack's tea. "And then later, I met Lucia Moretti and we had Melissa. Though she had to change her name when Lucia left Torchwood..." Jack's throat worked. "But she's amazing, Alice is."

"I have no doubt of it," Ianto murmured, squeezing Jack's hand again. Jack's throat worked; he didn't look up this time.

"I always did my best to be there for both of them," Jack said. "Even after Lucia and I divorced -- and I have to tell you, because this is important. It was so hard on her, on both of them, when they kept aging like normal humans and I didn't. Alice resented me so much for it. I don't think she ever forgave me--"

Ianto couldn't be satisfied with just a handclasp now. He sat up, put his tea aside, and reached to tug Jack into his arms. Jack closed his eyes and shook for a while.

* * *

Jack's reassurance helped a great deal; in spite of that -- and even though Ianto trusted him beyond the shadow of a doubt -- it didn't improve his outlook on the idea that he was suddenly about to be a father. Though he'd set up an initial appointment for the following week, he still wasn't sure if he was ready for a baby -- or, for that matter, if he even wanted one. Sure, he'd thought of being a father at some point, pictured the classic family image (though he'd never been specific about whether it would include a wife or a husband). That didn't mean he wanted it right now. Despite that, he wasn't sure he could give up the baby, whether by adoption or... other means. No, that was unthinkable. He couldn't. But still...

Days went by where he tried not to think about it. He asked Jack if they could just ignore it for the time being, something Jack clearly wasn't too pleased about though he did attempt to honour Ianto's request. Ianto knew that. The topic kept coming up, though, seemingly at random moments, getting under Ianto's skin and irritating him when he snapped that he didn't want to talk about it. Friday came and suddenly Ianto wanted nothing more than to get out of London for the weekend. Still feeling torn and unsure, he found himself picking up his phone and dialling his sister's house in Newport (and as it rang, the Frost quote ran through his mind: "Home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in").

For a long moment, he was afraid she wouldn't answer. She'd cut him off so completely after he took the job at Torchwood that he'd never seen a picture of his niece, had had to find out from mutual friends that Mica even existed.

Then Rhiannon answered -- an impersonal "Hello" -- and Ianto found his voice shaking a little as he said, "Hi, Rhi. It's Ianto."

He was still terrified that she'd hang up on him, she'd gone so silent. But then she said, "What is it?" in a voice that suggested he might only get one chance, and he took a deep breath.

"Please," he said. "I need to talk to you." Before he lost his nerve, he went on: "I'm pregnant."

The silence was different now. He heard her swallow, and then she murmured his name.

It didn't take long at all to make arrangements; she agreed to meet him at the zeppelin station in Cardiff. He stopped home long enough to pack a weekend bag, told Pete he might not be in on Monday (let Pete think what he wanted of that), and cabbed it to Paddington. Glad to not have to think about anything until they embarked at Cardiff, he turned off his mobile and closed his eyes.

As promised, Rhiannon was waiting for him on the platform at the Cardiff station. She was flanked by a child on either side: Ianto recognised David, who had been two the last time he'd seen him, but the dark-haired little girl, who could only be Mica, was familiar only in that her eyes were Rhiannon's.

His sister let go of the children's hands and rushed forward to hug him, letting out a sound like a sob as they made contact. "Ianto," she said, and swallowed to try and smile. "I'm sorry, I've been an idiot."

Shushing her, Ianto returned the embrace, then pulled back to smile at her. "It's all right," he said. "It really is."

* * *

As expected, his niece and nephew were a bit wary of him. Ianto wondered if they'd even known of his existence; the way Rhiannon had cut him off before, it was entirely possible. But she referred to him as their Uncle Ianto, and he felt tentatively hopeful. Ianto had never been good with children; he'd had to come up with a stock response for co-workers who insisted on showing off pictures of their offspring (though saying "They're adorable" always seemed to do the trick). Fortunately, David and Mica were both of an age where he could carry on a conversation, at least to the length of their short attention spans. Once they returned to the housing estate where Rhiannon and Johnny Davies lived, David was mad to show off his new X-box game, while Mica paraded a series of plastic ponies around for Ianto to admire.

Even Johnny Davies' arrival -- complete with a cry of, "So who's got a bun in the oven, then!" -- couldn't seem to shake Ianto from a feeling that he was thoroughly accepted and at home here. He found himself relaxing, taking a controller to play David at his latest game, helping Rhiannon put together tea for all of them. David was put out when Rhiannon said that Ianto would be sleeping in his room, so Ianto insisted on taking the sofa instead.

Though said sofa wasn't really very comfortable, Ianto felt himself smiling as he nestled down that evening, a warm duvet over him and one of Mica's plush teddy bears to keep him company (she'd insisted on pressing it into his arms). It might have taken an unplanned pregnancy to mend the rift between himself and his sister; right now, though, Ianto was glad of it.

He still hadn't made up his mind about what to do in regards to the pregnancy, but he had time to decide. He just wanted a break from it right now.

* * *

At first, Jack told himself it was silly to worry. Though they'd made a routine of leaving Torchwood together at the end of the day -- once Jack had made sure Thomas had put away the day's work and headed home to his wife -- it didn't mean they had a standing obligation to do so. He did try Ianto's mobile, but only reached his voicemail.

 _Give him a minute to breathe_ , Jack said sternly to himself. He'd tried to keep from discussing the baby unless Ianto wanted to, all too aware that he didn't want to pressure Ianto or stress him out. He'd been taking Ianto home but only to make sure he was settled for the night, sometimes cooking or ordering takeaway, putting a load of clothes in the washer if needed. Ianto hadn't seemed in the mood for more, though, so Jack had been spending the nights in his room at the Tyler mansion again.

He couldn't seem to stop the little nagging voice of worry, though. He didn't want to come off as a stalker, but he wanted to make sure Ianto was all right. But subsequent calls to Ianto's mobile continued to give him only voicemail, which didn't help ease his concern at all.

It was only curiosity, that evening, that led him to use some tricks of Tosh's and track Ianto's credit card useage, he told himself firmly. Only the slightest bit of fear, really. But when he saw the details -- a zeppelin ticket purchased in Paddington, the price correspondent to the cost of a trip to Cardiff -- he sat back, blowing out a stunned breath. Had Ianto gone home? Reconciled with his sister somehow?

There was no excusing his subsequent actions. He knew that. Even as he booked another ticket to Cardiff and put a change of clothes in a bag, sought out a hotel for the night and mapped out the location of the Davies house, he had a feeling Ianto wouldn't forgive him. But right now, making sure Ianto was all right seemed more important.

Sunday afternoon found him in a hired car, parked down the street from the house. He'd gone on instinct, guessing that Ianto was there; after all, just because he had gone to Cardiff didn't necessarily imply that he'd somehow managed to get his sister to talk to him again. Just a glimpse of Ianto, that was all he wanted. Then he'd drive back to the zeppelin station and return to London as if he'd never been--

A rapping on the glass of the passenger door window jerked Jack out of his thoughts. He glanced over, expecting to see an officer asking what he was doing lurking about on the street. Instead, there was Ianto, glowering through the window at him.

Sheepishly, Jack gave him a grin and unlocked the car. His mind was racing -- how had Ianto managed to sneak up on him?! -- but he showed none of it, his smile weak as Ianto slipped into the car and sat down.

"Er, hello," he tried.

Ianto rolled his eyes expressively. "Fancy meeting you here," he said. Jack could see him trembling a bit and recognised that Ianto was angry. Fair enough.

"You're mad," he said. "And I am sorry. I really am. I just got really worried when I couldn't reach you on your mobile." He tried not to sound reproachful.

After a moment, Ianto sighed, shaking his head and looking away. "I turned it off," he said softly. "I just needed a few days to not think about anything. Just, I just needed some space." He met Jack's eyes again, and Jack thought he saw the apology there. He dared to reach over and touch Ianto's knee.

"I understand," Jack said quietly. "I know I've been. Well. Probably a bit pushy."

"A bit," Ianto agreed, but he was smiling wryly now. He glanced back toward the house, just in time to see a curtain twitch into stillness. "We're being watched, you know."

"The family?" Jack asked, and Ianto nodded, taking a breath.

"I'm not sure if Rhiannon's forgiven me for working for Torchwood, but at least she's talking to me again." He looked distant for a moment, then glanced at Jack again. "You'd better come in. They've seen us."

"Are you sure? I mean, I don't have to, if you'd rather not. I can just go back to London." Jack felt surprisingly reticent about meeting Ianto's family, especially given that the only time he'd met Rhiannon Davies in the other dimension was at Ianto's funeral. She'd been furious then; he was impressed by her formidable temper even as it had struck him how much she resembled her brother.

"No, I want you to. They already know who you are, that you're the father and all. They've got a hundred questions, and why should I get all the torture?" Ianto grinned at Jack; feeling a little uneasy, Jack followed.

* * *

The visit was surprisingly comfortable, though. Despite their surroundings, the home was warm and had a relaxed, lived-in feel without looking run-down, and Rhiannon was a friendly hostess, even if she did have to occasionally smack her husband to keep him in line. Jack offered to take them out to dinner, but Rhiannon complacently turned him down, with a suggestion that there'd be plenty more opportunities for that sort of thing.

"Are you staying tonight?" Jack asked, when Johnny had gone to get the children into bed.

Ianto looked briefly torn, but then he shook his head. "No, I don't think so. It's been good being here, but I'd like to sleep in a real bed tonight." He patted the sofa they were sitting on. "Not the most comfortable bed I've ever been in," he commented, and Rhi chuckled.

"You just want to get back home with that handsome boyfriend of yours," she said.

Apparently it wasn't beyond Ianto's capability to blush, which made Jack grin.

The zeppelin back to London was fairly full with commuters and families who had gone out to South Wales for the weekend, but they had a row of seats to themselves. "How are you feeling?" Jack asked, when they'd settled (Ianto declined the window seat, since the view made him a little queasy).

"Fine," Ianto said absently, buckling in and settling back with his legs out as far in front of himself as he could extend them. He glanced at Jack, his eyes warm. "Not quite the same as our last zeppelin trip, is it?"

"No, not quite." Jack found himself smiling, recalling that trip and how they'd occupied themselves for the long days of travel. Though he was still a bit concerned about whether Ianto was angry at him, he'd determined to try and carry on as normal until the situation dictated otherwise.

The stewardess came by, counting heads and offering pillows for the flight back; a late one, it would get in at close to midnight. Once she was gone, Ianto looked at Jack again, then reached tentatively for his hand. "I was thinking, uh. If you want to come back to the flat tonight, I'd like that."

"Are you sure?" Jack asked, biting back the hope that threatened to rise. "I mean, I understand you need your space, I don't want to crowd you--"

"No, I do. I want that." Ianto's throat worked for a moment, his hand tightening on Jack's. "I've had some time to think about things," he went on. "I want you around, for one thing. As in a real relationship, not just... you know. What we've been doing." He lowered his voice a little, to keep from being heard by anyone near them. "But I also. I decided that I want to keep the baby."

Jack couldn't control the emotion then; it tightened his throat, brought tears to sting his eyes. He swallowed hard a few times, covering Ianto's hand with his own; and then, _screw it_ , he had to lean over and kiss Ianto, still unable to speak. "I'm so glad," he finally managed, his smile weak. "So glad. I swear I'll be there for everything, I want to be involved a hundred percent. I'll go with you to the doctor, anything you need, everything."

It was as if he hadn't realised just how much he'd wanted this child until that moment. He had to lower his eyes for a moment; Stephen's image swam before them, the memory of the bright young boy who had been sacrificed at Jack's hand to save the world... This was a second chance. _I won't fuck this one up_ , he promised whatever cosmic power might be listening.

* * *

Ianto managed to doze a little on the flight back, but he caught himself yawning in spite of himself in the cab to his flat. "I don't have to stay," Jack said again, while Ianto unlocked his door with the thumbprint scanner.

It made Ianto chuckle, and he wound his hand around Jack's and tugged him into the flat. "Get in here," he said, making Jack laugh too.

"I might take tomorrow off after all," Ianto muttered, fingers fumbling with his shirt as he started to undress. He felt exceptionally tired, though he expected some of that had to do with the long day and the emotional weekend. A moment later, Jack was there in front of him, and Ianto dropped his hands and let Jack finish the job.

"You should," Jack said. "When are you going to tell Pete?"

"After the appointment." Ianto held his arms up for Jack to remove the shirt, then went to work on the belt. Jack nudged his hands out of the way, quickly slipping the belt off and undoing Ianto's trousers. "I'll know what kind of schedule I'll be on then, for checkups and such."

"Good plan." Jack let the trousers drop and guided Ianto forward; Ianto stepped out of them and took a few more steps to the bed, letting himself fall with a groan of contentment. He roused himself enough to let Jack tug the duvet out from under him, then shifted to his back to watch Jack undressing and stuffing their clothes into the hamper.

Finally, Jack slid under the duvet with him, and Ianto sighed, nestling back into Jack's arms. "Better?" Jack asked.

"Million times," Ianto murmured, closing his eyes. "I feel like we're going to get through this now. Took me a while, but. It's going to be all right."

"Ianto," Jack said in a whisper, and Ianto swallowed and turned, shifting against Jack until he could see his face. Jack shook his head, his smile obviously a little forced but present. "I'm all right," he said. "Just. I'm glad."

"OK," Ianto said. He pressed a kiss to Jack's mouth and then settled himself again, his head on Jack's shoulder. He didn't even notice how quickly he fell asleep.

* * *

Ianto had decided not to go in to work the next morning after all, still feeling tired and a little strained -- though he looked a lot better, to Jack's relief. Jack kissed him and said he'd call later, then left him to sleep in while he went back to the Tylers' to change and head into Torchwood.

He was a little late, but Thomas didn't comment; he was distracted, anyway, working on a communication device, so Jack just shrugged his leather coat off and got to work. Normally the time went quickly, but today he kept finding himself thinking about Ianto and what he'd said about their relationship being real, rather than just fucking. He wanted that, too.

"Jack!" Thomas said suddenly, and Jack snapped up, catching the soldering iron he'd nearly let slip out of his hands.

"Sorry," Jack said, sighing. He scooped up a couple of screws he'd knocked to the floor and dropped them on the table again. "I'm paying attention. Go ahead."

"You're not even here today," Thomas said, shaking his head a little. He put down the circuit board and gave Jack a keen-eyed look. "What's going on? Everything all right with Ianto?"

Jack blinked; he hadn't thought anyone had picked up on them -- but this _was_ the human version of the ever-perceptive Doctor. He made himself smile, though he turned the soldering iron off and set it on its stand. "Everything's fine," he said. "You, uh, you haven't told Rose about--"

"No, no." Thomas waved it off. "'Course not, it's yours to tell. She'll be thrilled for you, though."

Jack couldn't help a little chuckle. "I know. She's been pushing us together practically since I got here. But she couldn't have known about--." He cut himself off, making a face; Thomas didn't know about what had happened with the 456, since he'd been brought here before that had happened -- and Jack had made a point of avoiding discussing it.

But Thomas looked at him, touched his wrist with gentle fingers, and Jack found the whole story spilling out. How he'd tried to stop the 456, how the Home Office had destroyed the Hub and hunted them down, tried at every turn to prevent Torchwood from doing the very thing they were created to do -- and then, for good measure, how first Ianto and then Stephen had died, one indirectly and the other directly at Jack's hands. By the end of the recitation, he'd bent forward over the table, head in his hands, and Thomas was rubbing a hand down Jack's back, over his shoulders.

"I know it means practically nothing at all," Thomas said, "but I'm sorry."

Jack inhaled hard and made himself lift up. He hadn't cried this time. Maybe that was good. He'd grieved hard when it was all over, and then he'd run away and tried to die. It had been a long time.

"Thank you," he said, his voice thick, and let Thomas hug him.

"So," Thomas said, when he pulled back. "You're better now? You seem to be handling things all right."

Jack nodded. "I think so. I mean, I don't think about it most days. And it still hurts when I do, but not as much."

"And you and Ianto?" Thomas asked. "You haven't fought, have you?"

Jack was silent for a moment; then he laughed, sudden and a little strained. "No! God, no. Shit." He swallowed and then looked at Thomas again, corners of his mouth curving up in a little smile. "He's pregnant."

Thankfully, Thomas didn't gape or go wide-eyed at the statement. Then again, he'd lived in this world longer than Jack had; in any case, his smile went wide. "Well, congratulations!" After a moment, he added, "It is good news, yeah?"

"Of course," Jack said, with another weak laugh. "It's -- it's good, it's great. Ianto's been a little nervous about it, but we're, we're going ahead with it. And we're going to tell everyone when he's a little further along, if you don't mind..." He trailed off, but Thomas smiled and nodded.

"My lips are sealed." He reached over and squeezed Jack's shoulder. It was like a benediction. Jack closed his eyes and breathed out. "I see why you're so distracted, though. You just found out?"

"Last week. That's why Ianto went out of town over the weekend, visiting his sister," Jack said. Thomas nodded as if making connections; of course, Jack thought, Thomas was probably already aware of Ianto's estrangement from his family. Jack still had so much to catch up on. "I'm just. I guess I keep worrying about it, wanting him to be all right, you know?"

"Well, it's obvious I'm not going to get any help out of you today," Thomas said, with a chuckle. "Why don't you get out of here. Go take him out or something, have a little time together. With no baby talk!" He wagged a finger at Jack. Relieved, Jack laughed and stood from the stool he'd been perched on, heading for the door and grabbing his coat as he went.

"Don't have to tell me twice," he said, turning at the door to give Thomas a smile. Thomas pointed sternly at him.

"No baby talk!" he admonished, and Jack laughed as he left.

* * *

"A date," Ianto said, his eyebrow raised.

"A date," Jack confirmed, holding Ianto's coat out for him. He found himself smiling at Ianto's scepticism. "That's what people do, right? Go out on dates to get to know each other?"

After what seemed an interminable period of time, Ianto let the smile tug up at the corner of his mouth, and he stepped forward to allow Jack to slide the coat on. "And it doesn't bother you," he went on, while Jack smoothed down the collar, "that we're going at this completely backwards?"

"Not in the least. Hell, I'm starting to pride myself on the way we're doing this." Jack grinned, turning toward the door. He'd decided to plan the whole thing as a _fait accompli_ , though he hadn't gone as far as to make dinner reservations; that way, Ianto still had control over whatever aspects of the date he wanted to control. He'd expected mild resistance from Ianto; but Ianto had simply raised the eyebrow and given him a look. "Shall we?" he said, and held the door open for Ianto.

Still smiling a little, Ianto shrugged and stepped out the door. With a chuckle, Jack followed him. He could feel Ianto watching him as they walked to the Tube station, though there was no comment until they were actually on the train.

"So where are you kidnapping me to, then?" Ianto asked, when they'd found seats and the train began to move.

"I thought we'd start at Charing Cross, walk down by the river, see what we can find," Jack said, giving Ianto's shoulder a little nudge with his own. "Sound good?"

"Just as long as we don't have to go on the London Eye," Ianto said. Jack blinked at him.

"I didn't know heights bothered you," he said.

Ianto gave a low chuckle. "They do. I mean, it's not -- it doesn't bother me on zeppelins, I think because they're so high up. But I can't handle things like the Eye even when I'm not, you know, a month pregnant."

"Fair enough," Jack said with a smile, and let his arm fall around Ianto's shoulders. It felt natural, but when Ianto glanced at him, he suddenly worried he'd done something wrong. "Is this all right?" he asked.

"Of course," Ianto said. His own smile was a little embarrassed now, though no one was paying them the least bit of attention; the other passengers were absorbed in books or newspapers or mobiles. "It -- it's nice."

"I should have asked, though. If you're out," Jack said. "Wouldn't want to, you know, do something..." He trailed off as Ianto's look turned from embarrassment to genuine confusion. Ianto blinked down at his lap for the briefest moment, then relaxed a little as he looked up at Jack again.

"No, I'm-- I'm zipped," he said.

It was Jack's turn to be confused, though he covered it with a chuckle. "Not like that. You know, out. Out of the closet? Coming out?"

Ianto shook his head slowly, still looking at Jack as if he'd just grown a second head. "I'm not usually in my closet, except to change. What are you talking about?"

The blankness in Ianto's eyes astonished Jack. "You mean--" he started, and then stopped, looking around. For this time of afternoon, the train was fairly full, and he saw, here and there, couples of various orientations, none of whom seemed particularly shy in showing their affection for each other. There, a woman had her arm proprietarily around the waist of the woman beside her; further down the car, a man stood with one hand on the overhead rail and the other around his girlfriend's shoulders to let her lean back against him.

When he thought back, he realised that he hadn't really seen or heard any negative remarks about homosexuality, not even the unfortunately common use of the word "gay" as a pejorative. Other observances came back, too: Ianto's comment that his great-grandfather had given birth, and the unrelated remark that most male births happened between same-sex couples. The man Ianto had brought as his date to Rose and Thomas's wedding; nobody had blinked an eye at that, and there had been other same-sex couples of both genders on the dance floor as well. Jack wondered if he'd been blind to it or if it had simply felt natural because of how similar it was to attitudes in the time period he'd been born to.

"Huh," he said quietly.

"Penny for 'em," Ianto said, giving his arm a nudge. He realised he'd been deep in thought and they were nearly at the Charing Cross station.

"Just realised a few things," he said. The train came to a stop; they were briefly occupied in getting out and up the stairs to the street level. His hand found Ianto's as they made their way outside, and both of them shivered in the sudden brisk air.

"Getting cold," Ianto commented.

"Yeah, I should have worn my longer coat." Jack never was too thrilled with cold weather; still, he thought he could probably handle it with Ianto warm by his side, holding his hand.

"So tell me what you were thinking about," Ianto prompted. They began to walk down the street together, taking their time, letting the busier pedestrians move past them.

Jack thought about it for a moment, framing his thoughts, before he began. "Where I come from," he said, "at least, the time period that I was in before I came here... early 21st century, same as this. The attitudes toward homosexuality were very different. Starting to change, gradually getting more positive -- I got to see a lot of good things, though there were so many terrible ones, too. England didn't even lift the ban on homosexual behavior until 1967." He saw Ianto's eyes go wide, and he shook his head grimly. "And even that didn't stop people from calling it immoral and trying to convince anyone who felt that way that they either could be cured or shouldn't be allowed to exist."

Ianto's face had gone pale, though he squeezed Jack's hand. "That's mad," he said.

"Tell me about it." Jack's voice was wry. "In the era when I was born, nobody cared. Love is love, pleasure is pleasure. I grew up with the belief that as long as you were a consenting adult and the other person or being was, too, then it didn't matter."

"So you're not just bisexual," Ianto said suddenly, and Jack laughed.

"No, but that's beside the point. But it was very archaic, even in the 21st century when there were so many more important things to worry about than what someone did in bed. You wouldn't believe the protests when it came to the idea of gay marriage, or the furour over something as simple as a gay couple adopting a child."

"I can't even imagine it," Ianto said, shaking his head a little. "There's -- there's never been anything like that here, not that I can think of."

"Probably because of the fact that men can get pregnant here," Jack said. He slowed as they came upon a display in a window: an art gallery, simple but eloquent pencil and charcoal sketches propped up on easels in the window. "Because it's a part of your biology, there's never been any reason not to think it's natural."

"But it _is_ natural," Ianto said, and Jack heard the confusion in his voice.

"It is," he agreed. "And you'd be amazed how many of the loudest protesters against gay rights were people who preferred the company of their own kind."

"Actually," Ianto said dryly, "I bet I wouldn't."

Laughing, Jack started walking again, keeping Ianto's hand firmly in his.

* * *

They found a little cafe, bustling and full of delicious smells, and Ianto promptly announced that he'd faint of hunger if they didn't stop to eat right there. Glad to see him in good humour, Jack nodded, and they went inside to get a table. Jack made sure to keep the conversation light, after the unexpectedly deep turn his thoughts had taken earlier; even more important, he kept to subjects that had nothing to do with pregnancy or babies. There'd be enough of that in the upcoming months; Thomas's advice had been spot-on, as usual.

Jack liked that about him. While he still loved the Doctor, if in a different way, that man was by necessity remote. Jack often thought that in spite of all the time he spent with various companions, human or other, very few came close to crossing that distance. Thomas, though, was a different person in many ways. He'd adapted to his humanity, despite the efforts it had taken; Rose had had a lot to do with that, Jack knew. And while he'd always harbour a soft spot for both Thomas and the Doctor, it was only that: warm sentiment, not devotion. He'd finally moved on.

The food was simple, but satisfying: hearty soup and huge sandwiches. Jack sat back from the table when he was done, groaning. "I wanted a piece of that chocolate cream pie, but I'm stuffed," he said regretfully.

"So get one to take home," Ianto suggested, and then smiled a little, dabbing his mouth with his napkin. "Actually, we'll get two."

Jack's eyebrow went up and he grinned at Ianto. "Is that an invitation?"

Ianto just smiled as he turned to flag down the waitress.

* * *

"So, I was thinking," Jack said in the lift.

Ianto couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at that. "You were?"

Jack growled a little, playfully, even as he curled his arm around Ianto's shoulders. "I was thinking," he went on, "that I might look for a flat in this building, if it's all right with you."

He'd been worried that Ianto might reject the idea out of hand, but instead, Ianto shrugged. "There's a few vacancies. It's a good place to live, but you know that already."

Jack nodded, letting out a breath he hadn't known he'd held. "I asked about it already, actually. There's one on the top floor, that'd be my preference. I know you don't like heights--" Ianto shuddered a little under his arm, as if in agreement. "But I do, and the one I want looks west, so I'll be able to see the sunset."

"And you'd be closer," Ianto said quietly. The lift stopped and he stepped out, turning with the takeaway box in his hand; smiling at that, Jack followed him.

"There is that," he said, airy, as if he hadn't thought of it. "Just a minute in the lift away from each other."

"I like the sound of that." Ianto smiled quietly, stopping to open his door and letting Jack in. He set the box down on the table by the door and slid his coat off, taking Jack's and hanging them both up; then he grinned at Jack, who was toeing his shoes off in the small tiled space at the door.

"Hm?" Jack raised an intrigued eyebrow.

"Let's go have dessert in bed," Ianto said, taking the box again and slipping out of Jack's reach. Laughing, Jack followed him.

* * *

It was strange how naturally their lives seemed to fall into a rhythm. Jack moved into the penthouse flat, and they shopped together for furniture to fill up the space. Sometimes after work, they went out to a film or to have something to eat. Most nights, despite the brand new flat of his own, Jack spent the evening with Ianto. He still didn't sleep too much, though, and Ianto got used to waking, in the middle of the night, to find the other half of the bed empty. Jack was always there in the morning, though.

Whether they'd stayed at Ianto's flat or Jack's, they drove into work together. By now, their relationship was common knowledge to most of Torchwood, and Ianto was getting used to the occasional glare from someone who'd been spurned by Jack in the past. He had to admit, though, that it didn't happen too often; Jack really didn't sleep around that much, and a lot of the jealousy was because the person had never had a chance to begin with. Ianto couldn't help feeling a little smug, even as he sometimes wondered at the fact that, out of everyone Jack could have chosen to be with, it had been him. Him, Ianto Jones, from Cardiff, Wales.

They shared the news about the pregnancy over dinner at the Tylers', two months in (Ianto had found out, to his private amusement, that the conception date was more than likely that week on the zeppelin, coming home from London). Rose, who was hoping for a baby of her own with Thomas, was ecstatic for them; Ianto saw the worry in her eyes and hastily reassured her that they were on top of things, doing the best to take care of the baby.

Afterward, he'd had to tell Jack what the doctor had informed him of at his most recent check-up: that miscarriage in men was more common than in women, likely due to the fact that male bodies still had some evolving to do to really bear children properly. He'd been given a list of things he was no longer allowed to eat or drink -- including coffee, of course -- and a specific regimen of appointments so that they could keep a constant watch on the developing foetus.

Ianto didn't like the conversation; he'd been dreading it, really. Jack's face paled of colour and he'd taken a deep breath; then he'd forced himself to smile, though it looked ghastly. "Then we'll do whatever we have to, to make sure this baby comes out healthy and safe," he'd said. From the flatness in his eyes, Ianto guessed that Jack was thinking of the child he'd had to sacrifice to save the other Earth (whom, by now, he'd begun to suspect was Jack's own grandson). He'd nodded, then taken Jack's hands and pulled him into the bedroom to comfort him the best way he knew how.

At least they hadn't had to stop having sex. The doctors reassured Ianto that he could keep up an active sex life for as long as he felt comfortable doing so, and though Jack treated him a little bit like glass, Ianto really didn't mind. That night, laying in bed with Jack, both on their sides as Jack slowly, slowly ground into him, Ianto actually thought it was even better than when they went frantic and fast.

Not that that wasn't fun, too.

What really surprised Ianto was how quickly his pregnancy progressed. It seemed he'd barely passed the stage of morning sickness when he noticed he was starting to put on weight. There were other signs, too -- he'd noticed he was eating more without really thinking about it, for one. And then there was the day when Jack put his hand on Ianto's belly (a habit of which he was secretly becoming fond) and grinned at him.

"You've got a bump!" he said.

Ianto blinked and then looked down. Sure enough, Jack's hand was slightly rounded over the gentlest protrusion, which simply couldn't be explained as a slouchy belly. He turned to look in the mirror; he'd been dressing, and his shirt hung open to reveal his stomach.

"Look at that," he whispered. Jack's arms came around him, and Ianto leaned back hard on Jack, feeling a sudden lump in his throat.

"There's a baby in there," Jack said.

"Our baby." Ianto could barely speak. Suddenly it was all so real.

* * *

Now it was impossible to avoid talking about what needed to be done, but Ianto didn't mind. He made endless lists, debated with Jack about whether they should find out the baby's gender in advance so that they could plan ahead (both of them kept changing their minds, though, as Jack pointed out, "We'll find out when they have to take it out of you anyway!"), and secretly enjoyed the slow growth of the bump in his belly.

It wasn't all pleasant, of course. Though there was the afternoon when he first felt the baby move -- even though it was too small a sensation for Jack to feel -- there were also evenings where he felt worn out, exhausted, stomach too upset for anything but tea. After the first night like that, where he snapped at Jack over nothing at all, they made an agreement that Ianto would simply say if he wasn't feeling well.

"It's hard to admit," Ianto said quietly into the darkness of Jack's bedroom. He'd had to retreat to calm down, and once he'd apologised, Jack had, too. Now they lay together, curled under the duvet as if in a protective nest. "I don't like having to say I feel sick. I don't like _being_ sick."

"I know," Jack said, and pressed a kiss into Ianto's hair. "Believe me, I know. But, hey," he added, trying for a lighter tone, "just think. You've got me at your beck and call. Anything you want, you've got it."

Ianto had to make himself laugh. "That's an appealing notion," he agreed, closing his eyes against another wave of nausea.

"Want some tea?" Jack offered, when Ianto had relaxed again. "Or ginger ale?"

"Tea," Ianto said. "I think I could just about handle that."

* * *

Aside from the nausea, Ianto thought he was dealing with being pregnant pretty well. He could work every day and he did; at Pete's order, though, he cut back to a normal work week instead of the long days he often put in. Aside from that, he didn't see any reason to change his work habits; the doctors assured him that exercise was fine for the baby, as long as it wasn't excessive. And Ianto hardly considered an occasional jog down the hall to deliver a report excessive.

The only downside, really, was that now that he was beginning to show, everyone seemed fascinated. "You'd think no one ever got pregnant," Ianto grumbled to Jack one night. He wore his suits as always, though he left the jacket open and had to find new shirts to accommodate his stomach; as a result, the growth of his belly was more evident.

No matter where he went in the building, someone wanted to touch him. Most at least had the civility to ask first, but a few bold souls -- some of whom Ianto had never even met -- felt no shame in putting a hand right on him, usually with an accompanying gasp of, "How precious!"

The day of the accident, he was more irritated than usual from the constant attention and had decided to go see if Jack needed any help in the warehouse. Lately, Jack's responsibilities tended to vary with whatever needed an experienced eye; some days he'd be helping a programmer in the tech suite, while others would find him identifying items in the archives.

When the wreck came into the warehouse, Jack was fairly beside himself with excitement. "It _had_ to come from another dimension," he'd exclaimed over dinner that evening, his eyes glowing. "No one's developed that kind of technology here -- believe me, I'd have found it."

Ianto knew that Jack had been a pilot, among many other things, so he was hardly surprised that the shell of the airplane, as Jack called it, had thrilled him so. Jack had explained in some length how they worked, air velocity and windspeed and the shape of the wings and other things Ianto could barely take in; as well, they were one of the primary differences between their two dimensions. In Jack's world, airplanes had been invented by two men in America, but that discovery was never made here. Instead, zeppelins had become the standard form of air travel, with only a few other purely recreational vehicles, such as hot-air balloons, joining them in the air.

"You wouldn't believe how great it is," Jack said, his eyes glowing. "The speed, it's like nothing you've ever felt before. If we can recreate it--"

Ianto smiled now as he entered the warehouse. The wrecked airplane took up most of the available space. It had been recovered a week before, discovered off the shore of Spain by an exploratory team seeking shipwrecks, and had undoubtedly travelled through a hole in dimensions. While not alien in the strictest sense, it certainly was otherworldly enough for Pete to claim it in the name of Torchwood. Pausing by the door, Ianto marvelled at the sheer size of the craft. Jack had declared it to be a passenger plane, with the ability to carry hundreds of people across the ocean in a matter of hours, though he was unfamiliar with the specific model. They'd guessed that it must have come through about thirty years ago, estimating by the amount of debris that had built up in and around it; by now, really, there wasn't much salvageable outside of the metal hull of the thing. Certainly it would never fly again; as it was, they'd had to bring it up in pieces.

Closest to the door through which Ianto had entered was the tailpiece, broad horizontal fins intersected at the centerpoint by a tall, triangular, horizontal slab of metal. They'd had teams working on cleaning everything up; even so, the warehouse floor was constantly awash in a thin layer of water, mixed occasionally with seaweed and, here and there, the odd dead fish or crab. "Not even worth cleaning until we're finished with it," Pete had said, so they just hosed it down every night before attacking again in the morning.

It was really good to see Jack with new purpose, Ianto thought. He spotted him now, up on a ladder, climbing on another cross-section of round hull. Occupied in pointing out something to the technicians below, he hadn't seen Ianto arrive yet, and for now, that was fine with Ianto. Jack was excited by the idea of designing a plane he could fly, and he'd certainly inspired several of the R&D boffins to aid him in the endeavour.

The shouting didn't register at first, not over the amount of noise filling the warehouse. As Ianto headed across the floor to where Jack was talking to the technicians, he only thought that someone must be calling out instructions. Then he caught the note of panic in the yell and looked around, confused.

A magnetic clamp held another cross-section of hull aloft to move it across the warehouse -- but the round metal piece was dangling precariously from the flat magnetic surface. Even as Ianto watched, it simply let go and dropped away from the clamp. The water, Ianto realised almost at once; it must have shorted out the power supply to the clamp. He started to back up, then gave it up and turned to run when the hull hit the floor with a reverberating shock, shaking the entire warehouse.

His feet slipped in the wetness and he fell, catching himself on his hands with a smack that made his bones hurt. Pushing himself upright, he had a bare moment to see that the thing was rolling -- as if not satisfied by the impact it had made -- and he did the first thing he could think of, which was to throw himself behind the tailpiece he'd passed only a minute ago.

A few of the cleaning crew had also found shelter there, and Ianto gave them a weak grin. "Hang on to something," he said, just before the wandering hull piece caught up against the tail. There was a great metallic screech and crunch, a huge splash, and then a moment of stunned silence. Amazingly, the tailpiece stayed where it had been secured, shifting a few inches but otherwise remaining in place.

Ianto's ears were still ringing when he felt someone taking his hands. Blinking, he looked up into Jack's eyes, more frightened than he'd ever seen them. He was saying something: Ianto could see his lips moving, but none of the words made it through the ringing in his ears.

He shook his head. "What?" he said, or tried to, his voice faint and faraway even to his own ears. "I can't hear you."

Jack's face paled further, but he pulled Ianto up to his feet without saying anything else. Ianto's knees didn't seem to be working right; he sagged hard on Jack. Now Jack was shouting; that much made it through the ringing, even if Ianto couldn't make out the words. There were other people around now, helping the cleaning crew who had sheltered behind the tail up, and Ianto closed his eyes. He felt suddenly dizzy.

"Get some help!" Jack was shouting -- Ianto did hear that -- as everything went black.

* * *

Ianto came to in the cool white haven of the Torchwood clinic. He blinked up at the ceiling for a moment as he tried to puzzle out why he was there; then, everything came back and he sat up with a gasp.

"Easy!" Hands were reaching out to steady him, and Ianto registered two things at once: the first, that he could hear again; the second, that Jack was beside him. He relaxed a little, a hand going to his belly as he turned to look at Jack. What he saw made him suck in a breath. Jack's face was drawn and pale; he looked as if he'd been awake for days.

"What happened?" Ianto asked. Jack shook his head.

"Everyone's fine, everything's OK. You just fainted after the impact. What do you remember?" Jack's hands were tight on Ianto's, and Ianto shifted to be more comfortable. He was sitting on one of the clinic beds; as he glanced around, he saw that some others from the warehouse had also been brought in, though they didn't seem to be in bad shape.

"I remember the crash," Ianto said. "I got behind the tailpiece just in time. It was so loud. I thought I'd lost my hearing."

"Temporary," Jack said, his smile attempting to be reassuring. "Anything after that?"

Ianto swallowed, trying to smile. "Yeah. I remember you getting me on my feet, and that my knees didn't work."

Jack nodded almost absently, his throat working. "You passed out on me. But you're OK now. And the baby," he added, before Ianto could ask. "It's just fine, perfectly fine."

Ianto felt something uncoil in his gut at that, and he let out a sigh. "Thank Christ," he whispered, and closed his eyes.

He felt Jack shift, but he didn't realise what was happening until the mattress dipped behind him; then Jack's warmth was there, Jack's arms coming around him, and Ianto let himself sink back into that embrace that he'd needed so desperately. "I'm so glad," Jack whispered into Ianto's ear. "When I saw you were in the path of that thing..." A quiet gulp, and he went on, voice low and raw. "My heart practically stopped."

"I'm fine," Ianto said, as much to reassure Jack as himself. "I am. I'm good. We both are."

He could feel Jack shaking a little against him; that scared him more than anything else that had happened that day. "I can't lose you," Jack said, ragged. "I can't."

"You won't," Ianto said, shivering a little himself. He turned as much as he could, needing to see Jack's face. Jack still looked ashen; Ianto brought a hand up to cup Jack's cheek and kissed him.

"I'm here," he said. "I'm right here."

Jack's eyes had shut for that kiss; he pressed his forehead to Ianto's, his throat working. When he spoke, his voice was so quiet that Ianto had to strain to make it out. "I love you," Jack said. "I love you so much, Ianto."

Ianto put his arm around Jack, holding him tight. His own throat seemed to have completely closed up. It was all he could do to breathe for a long moment.

"You too," he finally managed. "I love you too."

Jack gave a weak chuckle. "So don't fucking do that again, all right?" He pulled back from Ianto a little, a hand coming up to wipe his eyes.

"I'll try not to nearly get run down by any more thirty-year-old airplane wrecks," Ianto said as dryly as he could under the circumstances, and was rewarded by a snuffling laugh.

* * *

Ianto had never been a Christmas person, but Jack, to his surprise, embraced the holiday spirit wholeheartedly. Then again, he supposed he shouldn't be surprised by anything Jack did anymore.

They had to buy a tree, of course (artificial: Ianto won that argument) and then they decorated it, which necessitated a whole separate shopping trip. Secretly, Ianto suspected Jack was fascinated by the customs of this world, though they didn't differ too much from what Jack told him about the other Earth's. Jack strung blinking miniature lights around the windows of the flat, too, declaring that they'd look pretty when they had all the lights out. Since they were decorating Jack's apartment, Ianto shrugged and went along with it.

When it was all done, Jack lit the gas fire and turned out the lights, then sat down next to Ianto on the sofa. "There," he said, satisfied.

"All right," Ianto admitted. "It looks lovely."

Jack grinned in triumph. Ianto could tell he was barely refraining from the inevitable 'I told you so'; he smiled and leaned his head against Jack's shoulder.

"Now we need presents under it," Jack said softly. The tree had been set before the huge windows that framed the western sky, so that the twinkling miniature lights in it reflected against the glass. Beyond it, the city was similarly lit up, seeming quieter and more peaceful somehow for the light dusting of snow that had fallen earlier that evening.

"Soon enough," Ianto murmured. He'd already done a bit of discreet shopping, hidden safely in his closet. "And just think, next year we'll have the baby running around in the middle of this."

"Might even be walking by then." Jack's voice was quiet and a little distant, and Ianto lifted his head to watch him. "I always thought Christmas was really for little ones, anyway. It's magic for them. All the lights and presents and possibilities."

Ianto nodded, his hand stealing around Jack's waist. "My mum always did her best to make it special for us, even though we never had very much." When he closed his eyes, he could see it all clearly: the little tree that they'd had for years, old and drooping but still pretty when it was draped in lights. They'd make popcorn and string it; Ianto would sneak bits to eat, while Rhiannon scolded him for tasting it. "We didn't get many presents, but what we got was always treasured. Even if it was socks," he added with a chuckle.

"I'm glad," Jack said softly, and then his voice lightened. "Now I'm trying to picture you as a scruffy little kid. I bet you were adorable."

"Stop," Ianto chuckled, giving Jack a gentle push. "I was all weedy, it was awful. Never really filled out like I wanted to."

"You're gorgeous now," Jack said, and turned his head to kiss Ianto. That was good; Ianto had no adequate response for it anyway. He smiled when Jack pulled back, then scooted forward and pushed to his feet.

"I think we need some chocolate," he said. "Sound good?"

With a gentle smile, Jack nodded, and Ianto let himself blush as he headed to the kitchen. He left the lights low, enjoying the dimness, heating milk and pouring in the cocoa powder, sprinkling cinnamon over the mugs before adding a few small marshmallows to each.

When he returned to the lounge, he saw that Jack had gone still, his gaze distant, looking out somewhere beyond the tree, past the windows. Quiet, he set their mugs down on the coffee table and sat again, feeling ponderous and huge. The movement didn't seem to disturb Jack, though; he could have been a statue, but for his occasionally-blinking eyes.

Ianto watched him for a few moments, taken by the rare opportunity to simply observe Jack. So constantly in motion, seldom sleeping for long, Jack didn't seem to have the ability to sit for long. Ianto had wondered, sometimes, if he still had memories that he wanted to avoid. When he laid a hand on Jack's arm, Jack jumped and then gave a little embarrassed laugh.

"Jesus, you startled me," he exclaimed. "I was a million miles away."

"At least," Ianto said. "Want to talk about it?"

For a moment, he felt sure that Jack would shake it off and change the conversation, turning it back to a lighter topic. But Jack's eyes were still dark when they met Ianto's, and his smile was faint.

"I was thinking about solstice celebrations on my world. The place I was born, I mean, the Boeshane Peninsula." He reached for a mug, cupping it in his fingers and turning it as he spoke. "Twice a year, in the summer and winter, we'd have a huge holiday. No one worked; everyone celebrated the turning of the year. It was especially festive in the winter. We didn't have weather this cold here, but it got so dark, even during the day, because we were turned so far from the sun." Jack's voice had changed somehow, subtly, a different accent creeping into his words. Ianto heard the stresses on the accents, the slight clipping of consonants, and shivered.

"What did you do?" he asked, both to keep Jack talking and because he was genuinely interested.

"There was always lots of food. Mostly fish, because we were right on the ocean, and a wide variety at that. Something like sweetcorn, early vegetables, and pies and sweets. Things we didn't usually get to have, not every day. Everyone in the colony would come together and there would be dancing and music." Jack's smile was wistful now, so sweet it made Ianto's heart ache to see. "Lovers slipping away in the middle of the dancing. If they got caught coming back, there'd be lots of teasing and laughing."

"Were you one of those who got caught, or did you do the teasing?" Ianto asked.

Jack's smile faded all at once and he looked down at the mug, as if he'd forgotten he was holding it. "I was never quite old enough to go sneaking off with someone," he said. "And then..." He took a breath, looking up at Ianto again. "The colony was attacked, and a lot of people died. No more solstice celebrations for a long time after that."

He took a sip of hot chocolate and then reached forward to set the mug down. Once he'd done that, Ianto shifted a bit so that he could tug Jack gently back against him, slipping his arms around him; the position was only a bit awkward with Ianto's belly in the way. Ianto didn't mind, though. Jack wasn't heavy like this, and the need to touch him seemed most important at the moment. He pressed a kiss into Jack's hair and closed his eyes. Through his lids, he could still see the soft glow of twinkling Christmas lights. It seemed useless to utter a trite apology, but Ianto could at least give Jack the comfort of his body.

* * *

Another night with an upset stomach, and Ianto retreated to bed early. They were in Jack's flat that night; Ianto had wanted to cook when they got home from work, in the mood for chicken and pasta, but then he started feeling queasy and out of sorts on the drive home. He'd seen Jack's worried look when he brought in the herbal tea that seemed to help, and he wanted to reassure Jack that it would pass; at the moment, that didn't feel too likely. Still, lying back with the lights off seemed to help.

It helped, too, hearing Jack puttering around in the flat. From the sound of it, he was cleaning up the kitchen; they'd left the dishes out the other night, and Jack must be loading them into the dishwasher. Strange, Ianto thought, how domestic everything was becoming. He couldn't deny that he liked it, but that didn't change the strangeness. He'd never really envisioned settling down with someone, though he'd always thought it would happen in some distant future. There had been an attempt at living together with Hal, but all too soon they'd realised how incompatible they were -- Hal hadn't even begun to move his things in before he declared that he couldn't take Ianto's anal-retentive cleanliness one more day.

 _Anal-retentive_ , Ianto grumbled to himself. _Just because I don't leave takeout boxes sitting out for a week_... At least Jack, while perhaps not a shining example of neatness, understood that dirty dishes led to unpleasant infestations.

He was jolted out of his reflections by the doorbell ringing. Odd; they hadn't been expecting anyone, and Rose usually just let herself in. The sounds were a bit muted when Jack answered the door, but Ianto didn't miss the surprised gasp of a name that sounded -- well, rather like his own. Concerned, Ianto pushed himself upright, pausing to grab up his discarded t-shirt and pull it on so that he wasn't dressed solely in boxers, and headed for the main hall.

His stomach had settled while he'd been lying down, but at the sight of the man in the doorway, he felt a sharp lurch in his belly. The other man was dressed in a three-piece suit with a striped tie; his dark hair was cropped close to his head, and the hall light clearly illuminated the same eyes that Ianto saw in his own mirror every morning.

Jack stood before the man, clearly as astonished as Ianto felt. His head whipped around suddenly; Ianto must have made some sound of surprise. "Jack?" Ianto said, worried.

"Go back to bed," Jack said. His voice was taut, hoarse in a way Ianto had never heard it before.

"I should have known," the other man was saying. His other self. _Oh God, it's me from Jack's world_ , Ianto thought with sudden, sickening clarity. "You thought I was dead, so you just left and found another version of me? Jesus, Jack."

"Wait, wait," Jack said, holding his hands up. The other Ianto stepped forward, and Jack took a step back in clear retreat. His voice wavered and he gulped hard. "No, just stay there. I need to know what happened. Tell me from the beginning. I--" Jack's voice cracked, and when he went on, his words were raspy. "I saw you die. You died in my arms, Ianto."

 _It's him_ , Ianto thought. Nausea hit him and he clutched an arm around his stomach. _The one Jack loved, the one who died. He's come back and he'll take Jack from me_. He was panicking. He tried to take a deep breath.

"Does it matter?" the other Ianto asked now, his hands spread helplessly. "There was a light, I don't know, all I knew was that I woke up. And I've been looking for you ever since. Please, Jack. I need you." His expression was sincere, but there was something strange in it, something cold in those eyes that were an exact copy of Ianto's own. "I've done everything I could to get here and take you home with me, take you away from these lies." A hand waved at Ianto, as if he were nothing more than a distraction.

Jack turned again to glance at Ianto; it made Ianto's heart squeeze to see the hurt, the grief there. He'd suffered so much, Ianto knew; there were still things that had happened that Jack hadn't been able to bring himself to discuss, but he'd talked about as much as he could, had shared the pain. Then Jack's eyes cleared, and he gave Ianto the briefest nod. Whatever he was doing now, Ianto had to trust him.

When Jack turned back to address the other Ianto, his voice was steadier. "Let me just do a scan," he said, bringing his left hand up. "I need to make sure you're safe after the trip--"

He hadn't even had a chance to flip the cover of the vortex manipulator open before the gun went up. Ianto jerked upright, a jolt going through him at the sight of the barrel, the light glinting off it. The other version of himself had it held in both hands, lined up so that it pointed between Jack's eyes. "Don't even touch it," that voice said, with a menace that Ianto was fairly sure he'd never heard in his own voice. "Lower your hands."

Jack didn't quite comply, though he did raise his hands in a surrendering gesture. "All right," he said soothingly. "Let's just take it easy, there's no need to wave that thing around."

"Please," Ianto said, unease making his belly roil. "Put it away."

A sneer darkened his doppelganger's face. "I should just kill you and take you back," he said, his eyes still on Jack's, the gun still raised. "Not like it'd do you any harm."

Whoever this person was, Ianto could tell now that he knew about Jack's inability to die. That was bad. The only ones from this world who knew were people he trusted beyond measure: Rose, Thomas, the Tylers. And Ianto. That meant he _had_ to be from the dimension from which Jack had come.

Jack must have realised it, too, because he nodded slowly, his throat working. "All right," he said. "All right. I'll come with you, I won't fight. Just, just let me say goodbye?"

Ianto felt fear, cold and sharp, slice through him. But the other Ianto only nodded once, a quick jerk of his head, and Jack turned to come up to him.

He could feel Jack shaking, or maybe it was himself, trembling, his teeth clacking against Jack's when Jack kissed him. Then Jack embraced him, pressing a kiss to his cheek, his voice a bare whisper in his ear. "Trust me," he murmured. "If he kills me, let him take me. I'll come back to you."

It was all Ianto could do to make his arms release Jack. Nodding shakily, he watched Jack turn back to the suited version of him.

"I still can't believe it's you," Jack said quietly, approaching the other man slowly. Ianto couldn't see Jack's face, but he saw the slow smile spreading across the other's as Jack's hands came up to cup his neck. Jack sounded disbelieving, amazed. "After all this time. You're alive." He leaned in for the kiss, and Ianto bit hard on the inside of his cheek.

Suddenly, the other man growled and pushed Jack away. Jack had something in his hand, though: something he'd ripped away from the other Ianto's ear. To Ianto's surprise, the man's image began to flicker, sudden sharp flashes of another face distorting his image. And then his face was gone completely, replaced by that other: a shorter man, looking slightly too small in the suit, brown hair combed back in dirty curls from his forehead, sullen blue eyes glaring at Jack.

"Fine," the man said, in a London accent instead of Ianto's voice. "You found me out. Well done you."

Jack, for his part, seemed angrier than Ianto had ever seen him. "What the _fuck_!" he snarled, and in two steps he'd taken the gun and pinned the other man up against the wall. The man only laughed, though, his head rolling on his shoulders.

"Come on! Like I was supposed to stay on that rock," the man growled. "Especially after you took off. Figured wherever you were going, it had to be better than there."

"Jack," Ianto said in a voice that didn't quite sound like his own, "who is this?"

"Oh, you haven't told the new toy all about your past glories?" the man started. Jack cut him off with a glare.

"He was calling himself John Hart last time we met," Jack said. Stepping back, he held the gun up, keeping it trained on Hart. "And I thought I'd made my point that we had nothing more to say to each other."

Hart rolled his eyes. "Please. You make it sound like I'm obsessed with you or something."

"You did follow me through the Void to another dimension," Jack pointed out in a low voice. He nodded to Ianto; gladly, Ianto moved to his side, a little behind him. A new fear struck Ianto, and he was suddenly grateful he'd pulled the shirt on, hoping its folds would conceal his heavy belly.

Handing the gun to Ianto with a quiet instruction to keep it trained on Hart, Jack moved forward to quickly search the other man. It didn't take long for a small pile of weapons to collect on the table by the door: knives, a pair of throwing stars, a telescoping baton. When Jack found a small rectangular device, he stepped back, holding it up, eyebrow raised.

"Don't push the button," Hart advised. "Or do, I mean, if you want to go back home with me. It's set to take whoever's holding it and anyone they're touching at the time."

"You still haven't told me why you're here," Jack said, adding the device to the pile. "Or, for that matter, how you got here. I'm assuming it's not out of endless devotion to me."

Hart's glance was dark, and Ianto wondered just how much history had passed between the two men. It was evident they'd known each other for a long time -- and that they'd been lovers, from Jack's words. After a long moment, Hart sighed and sank back a little. "I'll be honest." Ignoring Jack's mutter of "That'd be a first", he went on: "There's a bounty on your head. Not from anyone on that godforsaken planet of yours; I left there ages ago. Remember the Cassiopeia con?"

To Ianto's surprise, Jack actually smiled a little -- though it wasn't his usual warm smile; there was something cold and wolfish about it. "All too well," he said. When he glanced at Ianto, it was as if he'd almost forgotten he was there, and the smile turned sheepish. "I'll tell you later. It was a long time ago."

"We pulled one over on the Great and Pusillanimous King of the Cassiopeia System," Hart said to Ianto, his own smile leering. "Took three-quarters of what was stored in the royal treasury, which, by the way, was its own planet. By the time he found out, we were three centuries ahead of him, fencing the stuff."

"He found out," Jack said summarily, his eyes snapping again, and Hart sighed.

"Yeah. He found out, and once I convinced him not to kill me, I talked him into letting me track you down, since you were the one who came up with the plan. He gave me that--" Hart's eyes darted to the device. "--and presto, here I am. Figured you wouldn't want to see me like this, though, hence the camoflager."

Jack was still holding the little twist of metal that he'd taken from its place on Hart's ear. Very deliberately, he tightened his hand, snapping the camoflager into several pieces. Hart's face registered shock and then anger.

"Do you know how much that cost me?!"

"What about the clothes?" Jack asked, ignoring Hart's protest.

"Oh, that was easy," Hart said, nearly grinning now. "Looked up eye-candy's sister, found out where she was keeping everything of his in storage, broke in, and Bertha's your uncle."

Throughout the questioning, Ianto had felt detached, more annoyed that this stranger had broken in and disturbed their quiet night than anything. At the mention of Rhiannon, though, he had a sudden mental image of the man threatening his sister or hurting her to get the storage location -- and even if the woman he'd gone after wasn't _his_ relation, his hand tightened on the gun regardless. "If you laid a fucking hand on my sister," he started, anger surging through him.

"Ianto!" Jack said, even as Hart threw his hands up, his eyes going wide.

"Temper!" Hart shouted. "Jesus! I didn't touch her!"

Ianto felt Jack taking the gun from him; it took a few moments for him to unclench his fingers enough to allow it. He could still feel himself trembling with rage. He stepped back as Jack glanced at him, a quiet look: _are you all right_? He nodded, swallowing hard.

Turning back to Hart, Jack raised the gun again. "That leaves the question of what to do with you."

Hart shrugged, that irritating smile coming to his face. "You could just let me go. I'll hit the button and go back where I came from, end of story." Jack's face darkened, and Hart laughed. "It's a one-way return trip, there's not enough juice in it to get me back. I'll just tell His High and Mightiness that you skipped dimensions and went somewhere else I can't track you to."

Jack shook his head. "I don't think it'll be that simple," he said. "Ianto, there are some handclamps in my coat, would you mind--?"

Wondering what Jack intended to do -- maybe turn Hart over to Torchwood, though that wasn't really a long-term solution -- Ianto nodded and backed away, turning to jog into the kitchen. They'd both dropped their coats there earlier, and Ianto held up Jack's to search the pockets. He came across the handclamps in a moment (remembering, with a pang, what they'd planned on doing with them before Ianto's stomach had begun acting up); then his fingers encountered a folded paper packet.

It hit him, quick as that, exactly what they could do with Hart. He was smiling a little when he came back into the hallway, taking the gun from Jack and handing him both the handclamps and the packet.

"Of course," Jack said, with a smile flashed so quickly at Ianto that he almost missed it. "That's it. Turn around, John," he said.

"Don't I get the right to know what you're going to do with me?" Hart demanded. Jack grabbed his shoulder and spun him, pushing Hart's face against the wall. "Oi!"

"If we were operating under any sort of normal circumstance, sure," Jack said. He quickly clamped Hart's hands together behind his back, checking the sleeves of the suit jacket to make sure there weren't any lockpicks or pins hidden in the lining. Then he spun Hart again and held up the packet, opening it to reveal three small white pills.

Hart recognised them, at least if his suddenly pale face was anything to judge by. They might not be the exact same formula as what he was familiar with, but Ianto knew that Jack had recreated them from his own knowledge: amnesia pills, which he'd learned how to make during his days at the Time Agency. The formula worked perfectly; depending on the dosage, the recipient could forget as little as half an hour or as much as two years. "No," Hart said.

"It's this or you go back with a bullet in your head," Jack said. His voice was low and cold, lethal. Hart's eyes were wide and, Ianto thought, actually scared. So there was something this man valued. But they were at an impasse. Hart couldn't stay here; Ianto had no idea what kind of chaos he would cause, but given what he'd seen so far, he knew the man wasn't shy about manipulating people he claimed to care for, and that was never a good sign.

Finally, closing his eyes, Hart nodded and opened his mouth. Jack jammed the pills in and held Hart's jaw shut until he swallowed. Then, almost gently, Jack placed the controller in Hart's hand, leaving the rest of the confiscated weapons where he'd dumped them before.

The sedative in the pills was already starting to take effect; Hart slumped against the wall as he pressed the button on the controller. His hazy eyes found Ianto's. "He'll leave you," he said. "He always does." And then he was gone, disappearing between one second and the next, leaving the air to rush into the space he'd left with a gentle sound.

Slowly, Jack set the gun on the table. He turned to Ianto, his throat working. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"Yeah," Ianto said, taking a deep breath. He didn't know which one of them moved first; the next moment, Jack was holding him, or maybe he was holding Jack, both of them shaking.

* * *

Ianto didn't feel like he could keep himself upright, so he tugged Jack over to the sofa, half-collapsing on it. He could feel Jack's heaviness, too, and he encouraged Jack to lay back with him. It actually wasn't too uncomfortable; the sofa was deep and the cushions soft; even if it had been small and narrow, though, Ianto would still have pulled him down. He needed to feel Jack against him right at that moment.

Once he had reassured himself that Jack was all right, and Jack had questioned him repeatedly to make sure that he was, too, he sighed and hooked his arm around Jack's waist, closed his eyes. "So bizarre," he said. "Seeing my own face, that was the strangest thing."

"For the first half-second or so, I really thought it was him," Jack admitted. "It threw me so hard."

"Would you have gone back if it was him?" Ianto knew he wouldn't normally come out with such a bald question, but he was still feeling the fading rush of adrenaline that seemed to eliminate his inner censor. "If he were really alive?"

"No," Jack said at once. He was smiling a little when Ianto opened his eyes to look at him. "This is my world now," he said, his hand slipping down between them to palm the curve of Ianto's belly. "You and this baby, you're where I want to be. I'm happy here."

Ianto tipped his head for a kiss, his breath hitching against Jack's lips. "Thank you," he whispered.

That made Jack chuckle, drawing himself a little more firmly against Ianto. "I should be the one thanking you. I was in a pretty bad place for a long time after... well, when I came here, I was still running, and you saw that. But I've got this life now that I wouldn't have had, and -- I may not have known I wanted it, but now I don't think I could live without it." He laughed at that. "If any of that made sense."

"It did," Ianto muttered, and kissed Jack more firmly. He had to keep his eyes closed against the surge of emotion. Really, it was hell itself having all these random urges to cry, and then Jack had to go and make it worse by saying something to honest and sweet.

Jack seemed to understand, though. "Come on," he murmured. "Let's go take a shower and go to bed."

Grateful, Ianto took his hands and followed him, pausing only to make sure the door was securely shut and locked. No more intrusions tonight, not if he could help it.

* * *

Jack normally didn't listen to gossip at Torchwood. In a large building, rumours spread quickly with little basis, if any at all, and he knew better than to expect any of the more juicy stories to have any root in truth. He knew that the stories flew about Ianto and himself; oddly, he didn't mind. He supposed they had a bit of a romantic ring to their history, anyway, which wasn't a terribly bad thing. It made him smile, though if he happened to overhear something negative he liked to try and stamp it out. No one needed to be speculating that the two of them were getting married in some secret, furtive elopement because Jack had knocked Ianto up, or that Ianto wanted out of the relationship because Jack had some dark streak (though he did, that was absolutely no one's business), or some such thing.

When he caught Ianto's name in the breakroom one day about six months into the pregnancy, it snagged his attention as a matter of course. Then he blinked as he heard the tail end of the woman's quiet comment to her friend: "...next thing you know, he's storming up to his office with a look on his face like you've never seen! Tori saw it, she said he'd come straight from the clinic..."

Jack didn't need to hear anymore. Standing and leaving his coffee, he headed for the lift that would take him up to the admin floors. It only took a few moments, but Jack tapped his foot impatiently anyway, wishing he'd taken the stairs instead. But then he was emerging on the top floor -- Ianto's office was just down the hall from Pete Tyler's -- and made no effort to hide his hurry down to Ianto's door.

The look in Ianto's eyes confirmed the gossip he'd overheard. When he opened the door, Ianto looked up from his desk, eyes snapping and hard. He was occupied in fitting files into his laptop case, already packed with the computer and some other files and notebooks.

"Suppose you heard," Ianto said after a moment. Jack closed the door behind himself, leaning on it, watching Ianto's hurried, stiff movements.

"All I heard is that you came up from the clinic looking angry," Jack said. "Dare I ask?"

Ianto sighed, zipping the case closed and then sitting down heavily. "I have to go on half days," he said. "I had a quick checkup, it was supposed to be in and out, you know? But I mentioned how I'd been feeling sick to my stomach and all, and..." He let out a deep breath. "They'd prefer I stay off my feet as much as possible. So I have to start taking it easier. Half days, no working from home, no stress."

Jack took a few steps forward, leaning his hip on Ianto's desk. Ianto still looked tense and angry, but he dared resting a hand on Ianto's. "Doesn't sound like the worst idea to me, I've got to admit," he said, quiet. "How do you feel?"

"All right, I suppose." Ianto's voice was still grumpy, but he seemed to have resigned himself to it. "I just hate it. I can work, I _want_ to work." Sighing, he pushed back from the desk and got to his feet. The movement was slower and a little awkward now, Ianto's belly distended before him. Jack was careful not to offer help, all too aware that Ianto was still close to exploding.

"I'll take you home," he said instead. "Make some tea, maybe draw a bath, we can just relax. All right?"

Ianto shot him a warning look, though he nodded. "Yeah. Sounds good."

While he finished retrieving the last of what he needed, Jack fetched his coat from the rack by the door, holding it up for Ianto to slide his arms into the sleeves. It was one of their rituals, and one that made Jack smile, remembering how the other Ianto would hold his coat up for him. "Meet you in the car park?" Jack asked. "I have to go get my coat and let Thomas know I'm taking off."

"All right." Ianto finished buttoning the coat, frowning at the way it belled out around his stomach. "See you there."

* * *

It was hard to keep himself from being solicitous; Jack fought the impulse to help Ianto out of the car after parking it, or to offer to make the tea when they got into the flat. They were in Ianto's tonight, which relieved Jack: he had papers spread out on the kitchen table that he didn't want Ianto to see just yet.

"Feel like eating?" he asked, hanging up their coats. "I was thinking takeaway, I'm in the mood for pizza."

Ianto made a sound like a grunt from the kitchen. "Could go for garlic bread," he said.

"Got it." Jack pulled out his mobile to dial as he went into the kitchen, checking the menu tacked up to the side of the fridge. He paused to give Ianto, who was waiting for the water to heat, a kiss on the shoulder; then, smiling, he went into the lounge to place the order.

* * *

"This is getting kind of domestic," Ianto commented later, quiet and absent. They'd eaten -- well, Jack had eaten heartily, Ianto had nibbled at the bread and then gone into the kitchen to get ice cream out of the freezer -- and now they were both sprawled on the couch, an old black and white film flickering on the television. Jack glanced at Ianto and smiled.

"You say that like it's a bad thing," he said, and shifted a bit to get more comfortable. Ianto looked more relaxed, certainly, now that he'd changed into an oversized t-shirt and loose pyjama bottoms; smiling, Jack turned a little and rested his hand on Ianto's belly. He was already enormous, even though the doctors had said that Ianto was well within the normal amount of weight gain; still, Jack loved the round fullness of the belly. As he rubbed with a slow hand, he saw a bump rise and then subside again, accompanied by a wince from Ianto: the baby was moving, alert and active.

Jack had to inhale hard to keep himself smiling as he watched. He pushed up the hem of Ianto's shirt to expose his belly; used to this behaviour by now, Ianto only rolled his eyes, but Jack saw the fond smile there too. Giving in to the urge, Jack moved down to press a kiss to the taut round dome.

"Hi, baby," Jack murmured. He rested his hand at the base of the distended belly; the hair there was rough, but the skin beneath smooth from Jack's nightly ministrations with skin cream. He could feel Ianto's pulse there, the warmth of him, and he took another breath to compose himself. "Hi. Can you hear me in there? You know it won't be long at all 'til you're out here with us. I can't wait for that. We've been getting ready for you, we're so excited."

Ianto's hand came down to cover Jack's, and he swallowed. "You're going to be gorgeous, you know. Beautiful and dark and tiny. Blue eyes, you'll keep those, I know it. But I don't care what you'll look like, because you're ours and we love you already." He had to stop, then, closing his eyes and resting his head on Ianto's knee. Ianto's fingers combed through his hair, soothing and gentle, cherishing.

"Let's go to bed," Ianto murmured.

* * *

They didn't have sex nearly as often these days; between Ianto's advanced state of pregnancy, his moodiness, and his occasional bouts of nausea, he was mostly content to simply curl up in bed with Jack and drift off. Tonight, though, his earlier bad mood had dissipated; too, he needed to connect with Jack, needed to feel that physical closeness.

He drew back the duvet and knelt on the bed, settling a little heavily on his side. A moment later, the mattress dipped as Jack moved behind him. Jack's mouth pressed to his ear, open and hot, and Ianto shuddered. Every part of Jack was hot, it seemed: his hands, stroking Ianto's chest and down over his belly to find his cock; his skin, his solid chest pressed to Ianto's back; his erection, nudging between Ianto's cheeks in insistent little pushes.

"Don't make me wait, I can't stand it," Ianto gasped. He felt Jack twist away for a moment; when he returned, his mouth found the curve of Ianto's neck again, and moments later, slicked-up fingers were slipping over his entrance, teasing and touching and making Ianto keen with desperate need. Then there was penetration: the first moment of strange sensation, sudden warmth and fulfillment, and then all Ianto wanted was more.

Maddeningly, Jack took his time, using one finger and then the second in long slow draws and pushes, twists and slides. When Ianto dragged a hand down to his own erection, only half aware of what he was doing, Jack's voice growled in his ear: " _No_." Ianto's whole body shook at that rough command, but he let go, clutching a fist in the sheets again.

He thought he might be going mad with hunger when he finally felt Jack's fingers slip from him. It had been a mistake to ask Jack not to make him wait, he thought dimly; he'd only inspired Jack to draw it out even more. But there, at last, at _last_ , the heavy head of Jack's cock, blunt and round, breaching him, filling him with heat.

If Jack had tantalised him with slow preparation, now he wasn't wasting any time; his first long stroke buried him in Ianto's body, drawing groans from both of them. Then he drew back and began to move in earnest: hard, fast slides that hit Ianto perfectly and sent white fireworks bursting behind his eyelids. Ianto heard himself crying out, but he wasn't aware of the words -- if there were any. Only Jack could drive him to this incoherence, the loss of awareness of anything but the moment.

When Ianto's hand slid down past his distended belly to his cock again, Jack didn't stop him; he gave an encouraging groan in Ianto's ear instead, a muttered gasp: "Do it, fucking come for me--"

Just as before, Ianto was helpless to do anything but comply. He cried out sharply and let the orgasm wash over him; heaving a deep breath in its wake, he felt Jack lose the rhythm as he succumbed to his own driving need.

Gasping, Jack fell away, rolling to his back; Ianto slumped back against him, his head still spinning from the intensity of the orgasm. Jack's arm came up to hook around Ianto's shoulders, and Ianto tipped his head back and closed his eyes.

He was aware, at some point, of Jack slipping out from under him, of a warm cloth on his belly and arse; and then the cool duvet floated up over him. It wasn't until Jack returned to the bed, though, that Ianto was able to relax completely. Curled into Jack's warmth, he sighed and sank into sleep.

* * *

The thing that Ianto found hardest to deal with, perhaps, was the fact that he was no longer in charge of his own body. He didn't mind the pills and supplements he had to take, or the limited diet; he had even resigned himself to the curious looks and eager touches from practically everyone who saw him. But in ways, he felt as if he'd been physically possessed. He had to piss every five minutes; his feet ached; his energy seemed to have been diverted solely to the child inside him. He barely even made it through the half-days at work now, even though he'd only been on that schedule for a few weeks. He'd begun craving any and every kind of food in combinations that would normally strike him as revolting. He was still prone to unexpected attacks of emotion; those were even harder to bear, since he'd always kept a tight lid on his feelings. Worst of all, he _waddled_.

When Jack came into his office on a Friday to ask if he was ready to go, Ianto found himself eagerly reaching for his laptop bag without a second thought. _This is not me_ , he thought to himself, but couldn't let himself feel any kind of real resentment toward his temporary passenger. It wouldn't be that much longer, after all.

Jack blinked at him. "That was easy," he said a bit suspiciously.

Grunting, Ianto heaved himself to his feet and leaned against the desk, his smile wry. "Tired today," he said. "I'm going on full leave next Friday, and I'm exhausted enough right now that it can't come quickly enough."

He didn't miss the flash of concern in Jack's eyes, though it was replaced a moment later by a smile. "Well, maybe this will cheer you up a bit." He stepped over to the desk and laid down some brochures that he'd pulled from an inner pocket of his coat. All of them featured beautiful, colorful destinations, sunny and warm or cozy and remote. Ianto recognised them immediately, but even so, he scooped the brochures up, opening one to read inside.

"I've read about these," he said. "Resorts that cater to male pregnancy." It wasn't uncommon; since this type of pregnancy was more risky, and because some men could feel embarrassed by their condition, an industry had sprung up to accomodate them. The resorts offered privacy and a place to relax, usually in a spa-type setting, with medical facilities so that the expectant father could even choose to have the 'birth' there -- or if something happened.

"What do you think?" Jack asked, turning to retrieve Ianto's coat and nudging him to hold his arms out for it. Ianto did so absently, his attention still mostly on the brochure.

"It sounds ideal, actually. Maybe just for a weekend or something, just to get away?" Ianto smiled quietly as Jack buttoned up his coat. "I think we both could use the break."

"You especially." Jack kissed the tip of Ianto's nose, rested a hand on the swell of belly for a moment, and then stepped back to pick up the laptop case. "Let's go see what sounds good."

* * *

In the end, Ianto decided it would be best to start his leave a little early, and they planned for the following weekend; they'd take a zeppelin on Thursday, arrive in the afternoon and have time to settle in and relax that evening. The place he'd chosen was on the southern coast of Spain, far enough south that they'd be removed from the cold that still pervaded London.

The difference in the weather made itself clear the moment they stepped off the zeppelin; while still cool, the breeze off the ocean was balmy rather than chilly, and Ianto sighed in enjoyment. Jack was casting off his jacket even as he followed, chuckling, "I think we overpacked!"

"A bit, maybe," Ianto allowed with a smile. He'd tried to pack for the weather, but he knew now that he'd be wearing as little as possible to take advantage of the warmer temperature. And if he knew Jack, well, Jack wouldn't be wearing anything at all. That made him grin, too; even if, at seven and a half months, he rarely found himself in the mood for sexual activity, he still enjoyed the view.

A short ride in a shuttle provided by the resort took them to their private cabin, and Ianto let Jack take their suitcase, wandering through the main room to the porch at the far side. From here, they had a gorgeous view of the ocean; stairs built into the low rockface led down to a beach, where a deep blue sea lapped invitingly at the sand.

With a sigh, Ianto sank down into one of the deep chaise longes on the porch, bringing his feet up on the cushion. "Better?" he heard Jack's voice ask; he looked up to see that Jack had followed him out there, two glasses with some kind of fruit drink in his hands.

"Much," Ianto said. "What's that?"

"There was a welcome basket." Jack set the glasses down on the table next to Ianto and sat to take his trainers off. "Some fruit and things, chocolates. This is a sparkling fruit cocktail, according to the label on the bottle."

It was good, Ianto determined with a sip: clear and light, refreshing, but with distinctive notes of the pear and black currant and agave nectar that had gone into it. He let the glass rest next to his thigh, hand bracing it, and watched Jack strip. "One of my favourite sights, right there," he said with a smile when Jack had finished pulling off his shirt and vest.

Jack chuckled and unbuckled his belt. "Remember Guernsey?" he said, as he stood to push his denims down and off.

"I don't think I could forget," Ianto laughed. It had been so strange, Jack letting him stay in his room after Ianto had come to more or less drag him back to London -- but the image that had burned itself into Ianto's memory was that of stepping out of the shower to see Jack, stark naked by the bed. "I was so angry at you, and then you stripped off, and all I could do was stare."

"Oh, I'm glad you noticed," Jack said airily. Ianto snorted and rolled his head on the cushion to watch Jack step over to the other chaise and lower himself, blissfully nude.

"I thought for a while you did it on purpose," Ianto said.

Jack smiled as he reached for the other glass of fruit drink. "I'm not that bad," he said, winking. "Although I did want to rattle you a little, I didn't think that would do it. To be honest, for a long time I thought you were straight. And in love with Rose." That was mostly offhanded, but Ianto heard the wistful note in it.

"It's not hard," he said, smiling. "She's easy to love. But no, I've never been in love with her. She and Thomas only ever had eyes for each other."

"I know." Jack sounded a bit rueful now. Ianto put down his glass and reached over to squeeze Jack's hand.

"She told me about how the three of you travelled together," he said. "She loved those times."

Jack's smile was soft now, and he gave Ianto's fingers a squeeze in return. "They were good," he said briefly. They stayed like that for a while, sipping their drinks and watching the sun set; Ianto couldn't help but smile, glad that no matter what had happened in the past, he was here with Jack now.

* * *

Despite the comforting, relaxing surroundings, Ianto couldn't quite let himself be completely at ease. It was strange, he thought; this was one place where he should have no worries at all. Jack was here with him; anything they needed, from food to medical care, was a brief phone call away. He let Jack talk him into walking down to the shore, where they waded into the gentle midday waves. Ianto enjoyed that; in the salt water, he felt buoyant and light, and even if he didn't swim, he could float, his belly breaching the water to make him feel like some sort of oddly-shaped sea creature. A beluga whale, maybe, with their funny heads; the thought made him smile as he paddled and floated, watched Jack swimming further out. Jack seemed made for the sea. His limbs flashed in the water; he was more at home here, Ianto thought, than nearly anywhere else. But then, he'd grown up by the seaside: swimming was second nature to him.

The next morning, Ianto woke well before the sun rose. A nagging discomfort, low in his belly, was beginning to gradually transform into pain that he could only describe as a squeezing cramp. Jack lay asleep in the bed next to him; Ianto could just make him out, his features soft in the pale pre-dawn light. Not wanting to disturb him, Ianto stood slowly and made his way to the toilet. Perhaps he just needed to move around a little.

Walking didn't seem to improve the matter, though. He found one of the prescription painkillers in his travel kit and swallowed it, then filled a glass with water and shuffled back out, this time heading to the porch at the rear of the cabin. He left the sliding glass door open; the breeze was soft and warm even this early in the day, so it wouldn't wake Jack. Carefully, he levered himself down to the chaise and stretched out, waiting for the painkiller to kick in.

He'd begun to doze a little, in spite of the pain, when he heard a soft tread at the door and opened his eyes. Blinking up, he saw Jack standing there, his eyes narrowed with concern. "There you are," Jack said, and Ianto smiled a bit, feeling strained.

He spread his hands a little. "Here I am."

Jack came out to sit on the chaise, turned to face him, reaching to take his hand. "You're not usually up this early," he said. "I was a little worried when I woke up and you weren't there."

Ianto nodded almost absently. His free hand slipped around his belly, and he made himself inhale. He had to tell Jack about this; he just didn't know how. "I'm not feeling too great," he said slowly, and squeezed Jack's hand when he saw Jack's eyes start to widen. "Don't freak out. I don't know what it is yet."

"Can you describe it?" Jack asked.

"It hurts," Ianto said, quiet. "Here." He took Jack's hand and directed it gently to the base of his rounded belly, where it met the warm juncture of his groin. He could see Jack going a little pale, lowering his head to look, and then Jack nodded briefly. He stood in one swift movement.

"I'm going to ring for a doctor," he said.

Ianto nodded. "That'd be best." He watched Jack swallow hard and then head into the cabin.

* * *

The receptionist sounded young and far too perky for the hour of the morning. Jack didn't care.

"I need a doctor in Cabin Eight," he said.

"I'm so sorry," she started. "Dr. Harrison is scheduled this morning, but he won't be in until seven o'clock. If you can wait, I'll leave him a message to come straight to your cabin--"

"What's his home number?" Jack said, interrupting her.

"Uh-- I, I can't give that information out, sir, that's private--"

"Listen to me." Jack's voice had gone low and urgent. "My husband is in pain. He needs medical attention right fucking now. If you can't get that doctor on the phone and out here inside of twenty minutes, you will not enjoy the consequences. I can promise you that."

The girl went silent for a moment; then she sucked in a breath, clearly attempting to regain her composure. "Of course. I understand. Let me put you on hold while I call Dr. Harrison's home."

"Thank you," Jack said. The line clicked and then went to some instrumental music; Jack tapped his foot impatiently, turning to watch Ianto through the open doors. He'd referred to Ianto as his husband only to get the girl moving faster; still... _Husband_ , he thought, and the moment of slight happiness the idea brought him was mitigated only by the sight of Ianto slowly levering himself from the chaise and shuffling his way back into the cabin.

A moment later, the line clicked again and the receptionist spoke once more. "Mr. Harkness? Dr. Harrison is on his way now. The trip will take him about fifteen minutes, but he's promised to go as fast as he can."

"If he gets here inside ten, you'll get a hundred quid tip," Jack said gratefully, and hung up before she could say anything else. He moved to the bed to help Ianto sit again, uncaring now if it damaged Ianto's pride or not.

Once Ianto was settled again, Jack smoothed back the hair from his forehead. "How is it?" he asked.

"Still the same." Ianto's forehead had begun to bead with sweat from the short walk, which worried Jack even more. "What'd they say?"

"Doctor'll be here in fifteen minutes or less. Do you want anything?"

"Just you," Ianto said, so Jack sat on the side of the bed and let Ianto lean against him. Through the open door, they heard the breeze, the waves steadily washing the shore. Cries of seabirds and a faint car horn punctured the stillness.

"I heard what you said," Ianto said suddenly, and Jack blinked down at him. Ianto smiled. "On the phone. You called me your husband."

"Yeah," Jack said. "I guess I did." He couldn't help a weak chuckle. "Thought it might add some motivation."

"Oh." Ianto went quiet again, his head tipping to rest against Jack's chest. "I liked it."

Jack couldn't help the smile; he pressed a kiss to the top of Ianto's head. "You want to?" he asked quietly.

Ianto had to lift up a little to look at Jack then. "Want to what?" His throat was suspiciously thick.

"Get married. You want to?" Jack cupped Ianto's neck with one hand, watching him. This was probably his worst timing ever.

The knock on the door made them both jump. Jack laughed a little and started to push up. "Let's talk about this later," he said.

Ianto's hand grasped his wrist suddenly. Jack stayed where he was, ignoring a second knock on the door, trying to read Ianto's dark eyes.

"I want that," Ianto whispered. "Yes."

Heedless now of the knocking, Jack leaned in and kissed Ianto, both hands cupping his face. Then, grinning, he got up to let the doctor in.

* * *

Dr. Harrison was an older man, brusque and forceful. He essentially waved Jack aside, moving straight to the bed and peppering Ianto with questions as he tugged the duvet down and asked Ianto to lift the shirt up over his belly. Jack tried not to hover, but he couldn't keep himself from staying near, and he eventually made himself go around to the far side of the bed so that he could sit next to Ianto during the examination.

The doctor's brisk manner was only somewhat reassuring, especially once he'd finished pressing his hands at various points over Ianto's belly. He used his stethoscope next, checking both Ianto's breathing and the baby. Finally, he stepped back, wrapping the stethoscope around his neck and shrugging.

"I'm not seeing a problem," he said, and Ianto's gaze flew up to him. Harrison held his hands up placatingly. "I'm not saying that there isn't something wrong. But I can't tell from a simple examination. And as close as you are to your removal date, it could easily be nerves. We can take you to the facility for a more thorough scan if you'd like."

Ianto's breath caught; he looked to Jack now. Jack bit his lip, torn; he wanted Ianto safe, and the baby, too. At the same time, there was the odd feeling of not quite trusting this stranger, rather than the doctor Ianto had been seeing for most of his pregnancy. A strange facility, unknown caregivers...

Ianto seemed to come to a decision from whatever he saw in Jack's eyes. He exhaled and looked back at Dr. Harrison. "I think I'll be all right. You're probably right; it is just nerves, I'm sure."

The man looked faintly disgruntled at having been rousted out of bed for a case of nerves, so Jack got up, pressing a kiss to Ianto's forehead before coming around to usher the doctor to the door. He found a note in his pocket, slipped it into the man's hand without note or care to the denomination, and gave his gushing thanks. Harrison appeared mollified as Jack closed the door behind him.

Once he was gone, Jack turned back to the bed, sitting down next to Ianto again. "Tell me the truth," he said. "You really think you're all right?"

He saw Ianto's throat work; then he shook his head. His hands spread over his huge belly as if he could somehow protect the child within. "No. I think we should get home."

Managing somehow to barely conceal his panic, Jack nodded and went to the phone to begin making arrangements.

* * *

_Money might not be everything_ , Jack thought wryly, _but it sure solves a lot of problems_. Within an hour, he'd set up a taxi and booked a return zeppelin flight to London. He'd stopped to check them out with the receptionist, giving her the promised tip and a smile that left her staring, agog, after him. Another tip helped them board the zeppelin first, where he'd made sure to get them into the luxury class seating so that Ianto could stretch out as much as possible. A concerned airhost brought juice and water that Ianto tried to sip, though he had little appetite for it. Feeling more helpless than ever, Jack held Ianto's hand and reassured him that they'd be home soon.

There was a chair waiting for them when they debarked in London; Jack made quick arrangements with a porter to have their luggage taken back to the block of flats, where it could be left at the front office. Then, too distracted to care if it was all stolen instead, he flagged down a taxi, helped Ianto inside, and told him to step on it.

Ianto had gone quiet, withdrawing into himself. That scared Jack even more, though he hoped it meant Ianto was simply focusing all his resources on feeling well. Fortunately, the cab ride was brief, and in moments he'd secured a wheelchair for Ianto and was pushing him inside, heading straight for the male pregnancy suite where they'd had all Ianto's appointments.

Dr. Emory was waiting for them; Jack had called ahead to alert him, and they'd been directed to an exam room with a full-body scanner where the doctor sat, already prepping the machine. He stopped and came over to them as Jack pushed Ianto into the room, giving Jack a quick nod before kneeling before Ianto.

"So you're in pain, Jack tells me," he said. He had a kindly, if no-nonsense, manner, and Ianto nodded, seeming to unconsciously relax a little as Emory's hands carefully examined his belly.

"Just there," Ianto replied, when the doctor pressed the spot low on his distended torso. Emory didn't react other than to touch it again, carefully, and then he pushed to his feet.

"Right. Jack, if you'd be so kind as to help Ianto change?" He indicated the screen in the corner, and Jack wheeled Ianto over behind it. They had a modicum of privacy, at least, especially since everyone else was too busy getting ready to notice them.

"Just a scan, like all the ones you've had before," Jack said, quickly and efficiently pulling Ianto's shirt off and giving him the gown. It overlapped at the front, with soft buttons, and Jack helped Ianto to his feet so that he could strip the loose trousers off.

Looking up from where he'd knelt to finish tugging the trousers down, Jack saw that Ianto had gone nearly as white as the hospital gown. He pushed up immediately, putting his arms around Ianto. "You all right?"

Ianto nodded, swallowing hard, his own arms hanging loosely at his sides. "I'm scared, Jack," he whispered. "I'm so scared."

"It'll be OK." Jack rubbed his back, trying to reassure him. "This baby's a fighter, just like its dad. You'll see."

With an effort, Ianto composed himself, taking deep breaths to calm down. Then he let Jack lead him from behind the screen, and an attendant came over to help Ianto lay down on the scanner bed. Jack had to go back behind the exam room window, where the doctor waited with the equipment, leaving Ianto alone in the cold room; he hated it, but he knew his presence would interfere with the scan.

Once it was over, Dr. Emory had Ianto return to the wheelchair and told them to meet him back in his office, just down the hall on the same floor. Jack paused to gather up Ianto's clothes, which Ianto took and folded in his lap while Jack pushed him down to the office.

"What do you think it is?" Ianto said when they were alone in the room.

Jack shook his head, sitting down hard in one of the chairs at Dr. Emory's desk. "I really don't know. I don't think it could be miscarriage, not this late. Let's wait and see what the doctor says."

Ianto nodded, biting his lip. Seeing the fear etched in the lines of his face, Jack got up to sit closer to him. "Hey," he said, gently rubbing Ianto's hand. "We'll get through this."

"What if we don't?" Ianto's voice was quiet, raw.

Jack looked down at their hands. His were blockier than Ianto's, but they both had long fingers, Ianto's skin paler against Jack's tan. His thumb rubbed over Ianto's knuckles. "Then we'll get through that, too. We'll mourn. We'll grieve, and we'll remember what might have been. And we'll keep going."

Ianto nodded, his throat working. Jack leaned in to kiss him, just a brief connection; then the door opened, and Jack pulled back as Dr. Emory came in. Without preliminary, he went to the lightbox behind his desk and began to put scans up on it, then set an empty folder aside as he turned to Jack and Ianto.

"You're very lucky," he said immediately. "We caught it just in time. If you hadn't been worried about the pain you felt," and here he addressed Ianto, "it might have been too late. Getting here right away was the best thing you could do."

"What's happening?" Ianto asked in a scratchy voice.

"The baby is beginning to detach," Dr. Emory said. There were other things after that, mostly reassurances that they could do the removal now, but Jack didn't hear much past the rushing in his ears; he was mostly aware only of Ianto's hands tightening into a painful grip on his own. Then an orderly was opening the door to the office and saying that they were ready for Ianto, and Emory turned with a brisk nod.

"Wait, what?" Jack pushed to his feet as the orderly took the handles of Ianto's wheelchair.

"We have to do the surgery immediately. There's a room open right now, fortunately, and we can prep you on the way," said Dr. Emory, coming over to follow Ianto from the office. Jack went after them, dazed, feeling that everything was happening too fast. The orderly was helping Ianto onto the gurney, drawing a sheet up to cover him while another woman attached an ID bracelet to Ianto's wrist; a nurse had a needle that she handed to Dr. Emory, who quickly and expertly inserted it into a vein to start the IV. Someone else had a clipboard with papers that they were holding up for Jack to sign, and he did so, distracted, scrawling hurriedly wherever they pointed.

All at once, Jack realised that they were taking Ianto from him before he could even say anything. "Wait," he demanded, and mercifully they stopped the gurney so that he could come up next to it and take Ianto's hand.

"Jack," Ianto breathed. His free hand drifted up to cup Jack's face.

"I love you," Jack said, his throat aching. "You're going to be just fine. You and the baby. You're in the best hands." Giving into the impulse, he leaned in and kissed Ianto, wishing he could protect him somehow.

Then they were wheeling Ianto down the corridor and through a set of doors labeled for hospital personnel only. Jack watched until Ianto was out of view; then he turned and leaned his head hard against the wall, fighting back the tears. It was all happening too fast.

Eventually, a nurse found Jack and guided him to a waiting room nearby. Though the room was comfortable and warm, Jack couldn't relax. He paced one end to the other and back, unable to even sit still. It was hardly a surprise, somehow, to look up at one point and see Rose and Thomas there, standing in the door.

"You heard, huh?" he said, and was startled by the rawness of his voice. Rose came up to him, throwing her arms around him; Thomas was right behind her, and for a moment he breathed them both in, grateful for their presence.

With each of them on one side of him, he was able to sit and talk. He told them about how they'd decided to take the last-minute trip, how Ianto had started feeling that dull pain just a few hours ago, really, earlier this morning. Privately, he wondered if some of Ianto's nausea and general discomfort had been early symptoms.

Rose took Jack's hand and wrapped her own around it. "You know he'll be all right, though. You know, don't you? They're taking the best care of him."

"I know," Jack said. That was why they'd chosen Dr. Emory, after all. "I can't help but be worried."

He couldn't remember how long the doctor had said the surgery would take, and he'd been too distracted to notice the time when Ianto was taken from him. Still, he couldn't help but feel that hours had passed when motion caught his eye and he looked up to see that Dr. Emory had come into the waiting room. He let go of Rose's and Thomas's hands and stood to go to him, telling himself not to freak out.

"How are they?" he asked briefly, hands on his hips.

Dr. Emory was already smiling, though. "Just fine. They're both fine." The air went out of Jack, and he had to put a hand on the nearby wall to steady himself as the doctor went on. "Ianto is already in recovery. You'll be able to go see him when you're ready; he'll be waking up soon. And the baby is in--" He stopped himself and then smiled. "In _its_ incubator. You'll have access there, obviously, but I thought you might want to wait and see the baby together."

He felt Thomas's hand on his shoulder, rubbing, and he gave a weak smile. They'd come up behind him; the doctor nodded to both of them and then stepped back. "I'll let you be. You know where the recovery room is, yes? Good. I'll be checking in to see Ianto's progress, but I think he'll be back to normal in no time." And he quietly absented himself, stepping out of the waiting room and disappearing.

"Go on," Rose said, when he turned to look at her. Thomas chuckled, his arm going around Rose's shoulders.

"We'll get out of here, come back in the morning. Don't worry about anything, all right?" Thomas raised his eyebrows, tipping his head down a little to give Jack that stern look he was so familiar with.

"Thanks," Jack said feelingly. He hugged them both, and then, knowing they'd understand, turned and hurried down the hall to the recovery room.

Ianto was still asleep, laid out in a normal hospital bed, an IV in his arm and the blankets drawn up over him. Jack had become so accustomed to the distended belly that it was strange, now, to see the blanket flat, instead of tented by Ianto's pregnancy. Swallowing, he drew a chair up to the bedside and sat down, reaching to cradle Ianto's hand in his. Ianto looked so young like this, asleep and utterly at rest; his mouth was open, and he was drooling a little on the pillow. Smiling, Jack reached up and brushed the little trail of slickness from Ianto's cheek.

It was strange, Jack thought. When he looked back, it seemed odd to realise that it had only been a little over a year since he'd come to this dimension. He'd still been in pain, then, trying to escape the grief and guilt and loss that had seemed to consume him. He remembered telling Gwen that it was time for him to find another life. And now, somehow, without trying or seeking it out, he had.

He didn't even remember when he'd fallen in love with Ianto, not now. It had taken him a while to see him for himself, instead of the man he'd known from his old world; when he'd let himself do that, it had been easy. Australia, he thought with a smile, rubbing his thumb over Ianto's knuckles. Seeing Ianto out of the Torchwood setting, capable and smart and quick, he'd found a new respect for the man that only enhanced the attraction he'd felt from the start. He remembered telling Ianto that he had an exaggerated version of a type; and maybe that wasn't quite true, maybe he'd still missed the Ianto who had died in his arms in Thames House and wanted to hold on to him a little longer. But it didn't really matter, now. When he looked at the man laying in the bed next to him, he saw this world's Ianto Jones and no other.

His life had changed so much, but he liked that. He had found the new life after all: one where he wasn't living day to day, waiting for someone who would never be able to fix him the way he'd hoped. He missed being in charge of Torchwood, but only in an abstract way; mostly he missed Tosh and Owen, Susie, Gwen, the people he'd worked with and loved. Here, he'd fallen into a different role. He liked bouncing around the facility and lending his expertise where it was needed, and then signing out at the end of the day and going home with Ianto.

 _Husband_ , he thought again, and smiled wistfully. Yes. It sounded just about perfect. He couldn't wait to show Ianto the folders of houses he'd picked out for them to look at, his secret project that he'd just been waiting for the right moment to share. He was putting roots down here. Sure, he'd outlive Ianto; he'd outlive the baby, too. And Rose, and Thomas, and Pete, Jackie, Tony: everyone he loved. But he knew, now, that didn't mean that the moment wasn't worth living in and for. When he thought carefully about it, he couldn't imagine wanting to be anywhere but exactly where he was.

Ianto made a soft sound and stirred, breaking Jack from his ruminations. He sat up as Ianto blinked muzzily, his eyes slightly unfocused. "Hey, hey there," Jack said quietly. The lights in the room had been dimmed, and it took Ianto a moment to focus on him.

"Jack," Ianto said, his throat thick. He coughed to clear it; Jack reached for the pitcher of water on the bedside table and poured a glass for him. Ianto sipped gratefully and then sat back a little. "Thanks."

"Sure." Jack took the glass back and set it aside. "How are you feeling?"

Ianto's hand reached down to the flat place where the baby had been, and his throat worked a moment. "Empty," he said, raw and honest. "The baby?"

"Fine. Perfectly healthy." Jack had to inhale, making himself smile, though tears pricked at his eyes. "It's in the incubator and safe, and we can go see it in the morning."

Ianto made an unhappy sound, but sighed. "I... I guess I'll have to wait. Do you know what it is yet?"

"Wanted to wait for you to see it with me, the first time. We can find out then." Jack covered Ianto's hand. "You have to stay in bed tonight, though."

Ianto made a little huffing sound, but then he sighed. "Suppose that's not the worst idea. I still feel pretty weak."

Jack nodded, smiling. "I can go home and get whatever you need, too. And they're letting me stay with you, I already checked."

"Yeah?" That made Ianto smile, if weakly. "Good. Sleep better with you."

* * *

Once Ianto was deemed fit to be transferred into a normal room, they were quickly moved. Jack confirmed that there'd be no trouble with him staying, and then he ducked out briefly to call Pete and insure that Ianto's paperwork for his leave time would be dealt with. Since they'd planned to have him be off anyway, he knew there shouldn't be a problem; it never hurt to double-check, though. Pete assured him that he'd take care of everything, and added that Jackie had already ordered an enormous flower arrangement for Ianto's hospital room. Laughing, Jack thanked him, ended the call, and headed back in to find where Ianto had been placed.

The large, comfortable room had been decorated to look homey and relaxing, with dark wood paneling in the walls, artfully concealed monitoring equipment, a rocking chair, and a sofabed. Jack promptly ignored said sofabed in favour of climbing into the hospital bed with Ianto. He didn't see the problem; the bed was wide enough for both of them, and besides, Ianto would sleep better this way. He was just concerned for Ianto, of course.

He stepped out of his shoes and tugged off his shirt, leaving the white vest on, and then slid in next to Ianto. "They'll see you," Ianto mumbled. He was on a drip of some kind, and the sedative had begun to kick in.

"Shh," Jack murmured. "Sleep. Need to get your strength back." He tucked himself in carefully against Ianto, an arm light around him, chest to Ianto's back. "And I don't care if someone sees me in here with you. Not like we're doing anything wrong."

He closed his eyes, then, breathing in the warm scent of Ianto. He'd darkened the lights, so that the only illumination in the room came from the lights on the monitoring units at the bed's side. It hardly seemed real that twenty-four hours ago, they'd been relaxing at the resort, Ianto's belly huge between them. Now he had to be careful not to touch the area of the incision, even though it was well-covered, bandaged and wrapped. He pressed a kiss to Ianto's nape and sighed.

"Love you," he whispered. He wasn't sure, but he thought Ianto relaxed infinitesimally against him.

"Love you, too," Ianto murmured, and then, though Jack hadn't intended to, he drifted off.

* * *

"Ready?" Jack murmured, and Ianto swallowed and nodded. It seemed wrong to actually be a little nervous, after all he'd already been through, but he found himself holding his breath anyway.

"Ready," he said, and Jack pushed his chair into the cubicle.

The incubation ward was small and set up with several individual cubicles for each child, so that the parents could visit in privacy. As they moved down the row, Ianto saw that the incubators were really quite advanced: each was set up on a little rocker, to simulate natural movements, and some had music playing or quiet voices speaking into the incubator.

"Here we are." Jack stopped in front of one of the cubicles; a tag on the outside read 'Jones-Harkness'.

Ianto took a deep breath and nodded. "All right, then." He found his hand creeping to his belly; he'd really thought he'd have some time to adjust to this, but it had all happened so fast. He'd barely had a moment to comprehend that the surgery was happening, and then he was being wheeled into a room and the anaesthetic was taking hold. Afterward, he'd woken to a feeling of loss, even though Jack had been right by his side to reassure him that the baby was safe and healthy.

That feeling was still there, though it receded a good bit when he caught sight of the infant floating in the incubator. The womb-like structure in which it was suspended was filled with clear stuff mimicking amniotic fluid, and they could see every inch of the baby, from the dark shadow on its head that must be hair to the tiny toes. It was curled up into itself, though, seeming shy in the bright overhead light.

Ianto swallowed hard, resting a hand on the hard outer wall of the incubator, blinking against the tears that threatened. "There you are. I missed you," he found himself whispering.

Jack made a low sound as the baby moved in the fluid, waving a little arm. "Keep talking," he said, his throat suspiciously thick. "It can hear you."

Ianto had never thought about what he'd say at this moment; he'd wanted to come up with something heartfelt and deep. Now, it didn't seem to matter. "It's so strange," he said, his thumb rubbing the glass. "I keep thinking about all the times I talked to you like this when you were in me, and now it seems so different. But it isn't, really, isn't? Your other dad is here, too," he said, glancing at Jack.

With a weak laugh, Jack pulled up the chair in the corner of the cubicle so he could sit down next to Ianto. "I'm here," he confirmed, and the baby made another little movement, reaching out with a fisted hand. "You're so beautiful. I can't wait until you're out of there and we can hold you for the first time." He stopped a moment, swallowing. "We don't even know if you're a boy or girl yet."

"Well, I can tell you that," said a bright female voice. Ianto turned with a jerk, surprised by the voice; he saw the startled look in Jack's eyes, too, something that spoke to recognition. Odd; he'd never seen the woman before, a pretty black girl with her straight hair pulled back at the crown of her head; she smiled warmly at them over the clipboard she carried.

"Ianto Jones and Jack Harkness, yes?" she asked, briskly checking something on the clipboard. "I'm Dr. Martha Jones, I'm the pediatrician in charge of all the babies in incubation. I'm so glad to meet you."

Ianto shook her hand, smiling despite himself at her welcoming demeanour. "Same here," he said. He saw that same strange look pass over Jack's face as he shook Dr. Jones' hand and made a mental note to ask him about it later.

"So," the doctor said, her own smile gentle. "I bet you're ready to find out if you've got a little girl or boy there, aren't you?" She pretended to glance at the clipboard, but it was clearly just a formality. "I won't keep you in suspense. You've got a girl. She's completely healthy, she just needs to do a bit more growing before she can come out in the open."

Dr. Jones kept talking, but Ianto didn't hear most of it, his attention taken once again by the baby -- by the tiny little girl floating in the womb. A girl. They had discussed names, here and there, idly tossing out ideas and rejecting some, but they'd never settled on any, either for boys or girls.

"A girl," he murmured. He heard Jack talking to the doctor, and then she was making her excuses and Jack sat down beside him again.

"We'll be able to visit anytime we want, for as long as we like. Once you're released, we'll get passes so we can get in here anytime, day or night. And she said there's a sound system, so we can record our voices for her if we want." Jack paused, inhaling. "For her."

"She's so beautiful," Ianto said. He couldn't tear his gaze away from her.

"We need to name her," Jack said, slipping his arm around Ianto's shoulders. "We've been putting it off, now we can't any longer."

Ianto went quiet, touching the glass of the incubator and watching their daughter resting within. The box began to move, suddenly but smoothly, a gentle rhythmic motion that rocked her in steady swells, one side rising and then the other. Even as they watched, the infant drifted to sleep, her mouth opening, eyes closed, her whole body relaxing as she succumbed to the motion of the incubator.

"Grace," Ianto said softly. "I'd like her name to be Grace."

Jack made a soft sound and nodded. "That's good," he said. "Grace Harkness-Jones."

"Jones-Harkness," Ianto corrected, chuckling.

"Grace Jones-Harkness." Jack echoed it with a smile. "I like it." He tipped his head against Ianto's, and they returned their attention to the incubator, to their daughter, to their future.

FIN


End file.
